Long December
by Madelyn
Summary: Christmas vacation at the Geller house cements old friendships and stirs new feelings... (NEW CHAPTER, FINALLY!)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers!  So I decided to follow the trend here and write a holiday fic ****J**  I'm a little nervous because it is sort of in a different style than I usually write, and its also in a different time- Ross and Chandler are juniors at NYU and Monica and Rachel are freshmen… Joey and Phoebe don't factor in yet.  I'll be sure to let you know how they do, when (and if) they come up.  So leave me a review because I don't know if this sucks or not!!!  And I'm still working on _Good Enough_- two at once, I don't know if I can handle it, lol.  So read and review!!!!  And Happy Holidays in advance!  (Oh and the title and lyrics used throughout the story are Counting Crows.)****

***Maddy***

_It's a long December, and there's reason to believe,_

_Maybe this year will be better than the last._

Monica checked her watch impatiently. "Ugh, we're gonna be _late!" she said in frustration.  _

            "So what?  We're only going home.  It'll still be there, god, _relax," her brother snapped back.  _

            "Would both of you just chill out?" Rachel whined from her perch on the hood of Ross's car.  "I am _not sitting in a car with the two of you for two hours if you're gonna be bickering the entire time."_

            "Better start walking then," a voice rang out from behind them.  They turned to see Chandler striding casually towards the car, duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

            "You're late," Monica said accusingly.

            "You're annoying," he shot back with a grin, throwing his bag in the trunk.  She rolled her eyes and tossed the keys to her brother.  

            "Can we go now?" she asked.  

            It was December 23rd, and the four of them were headed home to Long Island for Christmas break.  It was Monica and Rachel's freshman year at NYU and both were anxious to return to their hometown, see the friends they left behind in August, and relax for a month without the pressures of school.  Chandler and Ross, juniors, were slightly less eager, Chandler least of all.  After all, it wasn't like he was going home; he was going to the Geller's, the house he had spent every holiday for the past two years.  It was always nice and cozy, and sometimes even fun, but he couldn't help but wish he had someplace to go that was _his_.  Maybe that's why he had been late.  Or maybe it was just to piss off Monica, an urge that he had been feeling more and more often lately.  She was funny when she was mad.

            "I can't sit in the back.  Motion sickness," Rachel complained as the guys started to get into the front seats.  Monica ignored her friend and settled into the back seat while Chandler grudgingly switched places with Rachel.

            "There.  Are we ready now?" Ross asked sarcastically.

            Between Rachel's whining, Ross's grumpiness, Monica's impatience and Chandler's indifference, it looked like it was going to be a _great Christmas._

            "Wake up," Chandler said, nudging Monica in the arm.

            "What?" she mumbled groggily.  

            "I'm bored.  Let's play a game."

            "How about the silent game?" she suggested dryly, resting her head against the windowpane and closing her eyes again.

            "Come on… please?  You've been sleeping forever."

            She checked her watch.  "Twenty minutes."

            "Twenty minutes.  Let's play the license plate game."

            "How come Rachel can sleep?" she complained.

            "Because you were closer for me to elbow.  Come on," he said, tugging playfully at her hair.  She shook him off.

            "Fine.  I don't get why you can't just make Ross play, he has to be awake."

            "Because I don't like that game," Ross finally chimed in.

            "Yeah, because you always _lose_," Monica said gleefully.  "Connecticut!" she said excitedly, pointing out the window.

            An hour and a half later and it was Chandler, 15, Monica, 18.  

            "Let's do something else," he suggested.

            "Fine.  But you're forfeiting."

            He rolled his eyes. "Okay.  You sure you can just take my word for it, or should we document it?  Maybe I can write it for you in blood."

            She smiled.  He could be _sort of funny.  _Sometimes_._

            "So hey," she started, whispering so Ross couldn't hear.  "What's up with Ross?"

            "I don't know, he's been like this all week.  I think he might have broken up with Carol.  Again," Chandler said.  Carol had been breaking up with Ross every couple months for the past two years.  Nobody really knew why.

            "Probably.  How're things with Evelyn?" Monica asked.

            "Fine.  She went home to Michigan yesterday."

            "Was she mad you were coming with us?"

            "No.  Why would she be?"

            "I don't know.  She doesn't like me and Rachel."

            "Oh, come on.  She likes… Rachel," he finished weakly.  Monica grinned.

            "I'm always nice, I don't get it."

            "I think she's just threatened by you."

            Monica looked at him, eyebrows raised.  "Why?  All your friends just think of me as Ross's little sister.  I'm not exactly a threatening figure."

            "Maybe it's because you're sarcastic and get my humor."

            "Who says I get your humor?"

            "See?  Point proven."

            "Fine.  Or _maybe it's because you're spending the holidays with me and my brother instead of your girlfriend."_

            Chandler reddened.  "No.  She doesn't mind.  We're not serious enough for me to go with her, anyway."

            Monica shot him a "whatever-you-say" look and turned to face out the window.  They were almost home.

            "What's your mom doing for Christmas?" Monica asked quietly.  

            "Skiing in Aspen.  With a guest," Chandler replied.  "I was invited.  But ya know.  Three's a crowd."

            Monica tried not to look over at him.  If it were her, she would hate getting a sympathetic look right now.  

            "Well, my parents are thrilled you're staying with us for a few weeks.  Keeps Ross entertained, anyway," Monica joked.  

            Chandler laughed.  "And how about you?  Big plans for break?"

            "Not really.  Rach and I are excited to see some of our friends from high school.  I think it'll be weird to be back."

            "Nah.  It'll be just like it used to be."

            Monica looked out the window again as they turned onto her street. The street she'd rode bikes on with Ross, the street she'd had her first driving lesson on, the street she'd ran down hundreds of millions of times to Rachel's house.  It suddenly seemed smaller to her.

            "I don't know.  I feel different already," she said as Ross pulled into the driveway.

            That night, after dinner, Monica was helping her mom with the dishes in the kitchen and the boys and Jack were in the living room watching a football game.  Rachel had gone home to her own family hours ago.  

            "So how does it feel to be home?" Judy asked her daughter, handing her a plate to dry.  Monica smiled.

            "Weird, but good," she replied.  It was the truth.  Her house had never felt stranger, or better, than it did that night.  Her relationship with her mother had, ironically, improved tenfold after she had left for school.  It was almost like it took missing each other to show them how much they meant to one another.  Six months ago, standing in this kitchen alone with her mother would have been Monica's personal vision of hell.  Judy would have been critical, and Monica would have been overly sensitive, and it would have ended in one of them storming out.  But tonight, they were just a regular mother and daughter, enjoying each other's company, and cleaning up after dinner.  

            "Poor Chandler, no family to go to on Christmas," Judy sighed.  "I feel horrible for him."

            Monica shrugged.  "I think it's kind of nice having him here."

            "Well, after the past three years he _is_ starting to feel like one of the family.  The sarcastic, neurotic cousin we never had, or something."  Monica laughed.

            Chandler and Ross walked in at that moment, taking seats at the kitchen table.

            "What's for dessert?" Ross asked.

            "Whatever you go out and pick up," Judy replied teasingly.  "Monica, do you think you can finish up here?"

            "Sure," she replied.  Judy excused herself, and Chandler got up to help her finish drying the dishes.

            "You guys want to go get ice cream?" Ross asked.

            "Sure," Chandler replied, as Monica asked "Can Rachel come?"

"What, too cool to be seen out with just your big brother and his friend?" Ross teased.  

Monica grinned back.  "I just thought I'd round out the male to female ratio."

"Tell her to be ready in ten minutes," Ross said.  "I'll ask mom and dad if they want anything."

Ten minutes later, on their way out the door, Chandler's phone rang.  Ross was already starting the car, and Monica stopped at the door as he answered it.

"Hello?  Hey, Ev…  Actually, I'm on my way out, we're getting ice cream.  What?  No… no, I didn't mean that.  Wait.  Sorry.  Give me one second."  He covered the phone with his hand.  "Hey, can you bring me back mint chocolate chip?  I have to talk to her," Chandler said, rolling his eyes.  Monica grinned.

"Sure," she said, leaving the house and driving to Rachel's house next to her brother.  Chandler was right, it was just like old times; after dinner ice cream trips with her brother and her best friend.  As they stopped at the old traffic light across from their elementary school, she looked at Ross, who was finally smiling, at a joke Rachel had just told, and thought of the warmth of their house, with her mom, dad, and Chandler waiting for their ice cream.  The corners of her mouth turned up in a slow smile.  She was home.

**Oh oh oh- don't you forget to review!!!!  Should I keep going?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.****  So I started writing this immediately after writing the first chapter, which was _actually _December, and now it's the end of March and I'm finishing it.  That's bad, even for me, but I got a lot of feedback from this story and a lot of people wanted to see it continued- I don't' know if they still do, after all this time, but here it is anyway!!  I hope you like it and that everything is going well for all of you.  I'm sorry that my updates are so few and far between, I will try to be more consistent.  Enjoy!  And please review.**

**Xoxo, Maddy.******

**_Disclaimer:  Are we still doing these?  It's so obvious I don't own them I feel ridiculous to even state it.  Haha._**

****

****

_I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin'  
Now the days go by so fast._**__**

****

            Chandler made his way up the stairs as discreetly as he could, which wasn't very, considering the fact that the staircase was in the living room and the living room was full of at least 35 Gellers or Geller guests.  The day after Christmas was a bigger deal than Christmas itself in their family; grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends congregated in the house every December 26h, laughing and eating and engaging in all the usual merriment. 

            It wasn't that he didn't enjoy merriment in general.  In fact, he was all for it.  But tonight, he just wasn't in the mood.  It had been less than a week since school had let out, and he had already been given four guilt trips and three rounds of the silent treatment from Evelyn.  Sometimes he didn't know why he bothered; but she was his first serious girlfriend, and something about that made her special.  He wasn't quite ready to admit defeat just yet.

            Escaping to the top of the stairs, he peeked into Ross's room, where he was occupying the top bunk for a couple of weeks.  A couple of Ross and Monica's younger cousins were in there, playing with some of his weird space toys.  He pushed open the door to the right of Ross's room, hoping for peace and quiet, which he found.  Monica's room was pink and girly, and it had a big canopy bed in the right corner.  The bed had a stuffed animal on it that was wearing a t-shirt with writing on it.  He picked it up and smiled at the message:  "Monica's, NOT Rachel's", in a child's scrawl.  He wandered aimlessly around the soft cream carpet, inspecting the various posters and photographs that hung on the faded rosebud wallpaper.  He had been in here before, but never without her, and usually Ross.  It was weird to be there by himself, and for a moment he was struck with a feeling of guilt, as if he was spying on her, seeing something he shouldn't.  Then he remembered the party downstairs, and Evelyn's ranting phone message, and the kids playing in Ross's room, and he dismissed the notion.

            He sat at her desk.  It was organized meticulously, free of clutter.  A scrap of paper in the center, with a reminder to "Call Rach about Friday" looked out of place among the perfect alignment of everything else.  His hand reached toward the drawer, and he snapped it back, surprised.  That would be crossing the line… besides, he didn't even know he _wanted_ to see inside her desk.  Weird.

            Above the desk was a bulletin board with about twenty pictures thumb tacked to it.  He stood there and studied them.  Mostly from high school, mostly of her and Rachel and some other girls that he guessed where her "group".  There was a picture of her and Ross from when they were kids; she was giving him a piggyback ride.  And there were two of Monica and a guy with floppy hair.  One of them was probably their senior prom, because he was wearing a tux and she had on a fancy dress.  The other was at a campfire, and they were toasting marshmallows.  His arm was around her shoulders.  Chandler wondered who he was and why she had never mentioned him.  Then, again, he wondered why he cared.

            He jumped a little when he heard the door swing open.  Monica put her hands on her hips mockingly.

            "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" she teased.

            "Sorry," he said returning her smile.  "Only empty room."

            "I'm sure.  You totally just saw your opportunity to steal my Care Bear and took it," she said, indicating the light blue stuffed animal in his right hand.  He followed her gaze and laughed, tossing the bear back at her.

            "I was looking for a magic marker to write "Chandler's, NOT Monica's" on the back," he joked.

            "My mom sent me to find you.  It's time for dinner," she said.

            "Okay."

            "You all right?"

            "Sure.  Why?" he asked, flipping the pages in a textbook lying on her desk.

            "Big party and you're in my room looking at my Psych book."

            "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just not feeling very Christmasy."

            "Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

            "Maybe later.  Let's go eat," he said, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs.

            Two hours later, Monica, Chandler, Ross and Rachel were balancing dessert plates on their laps and discussing New Years plans.  

            "Well, you two are obviously welcome at my house," Rachel was telling Chandler and Ross, "My parents are leaving for the Bahamas the day after tomorrow and Amy and I are making Jill go to my grandparents for New Years Eve so we can have a party."

            "Sounds like a high school party," Ross sneered.  Rachel glared at him.

            "Like you would even know."

            Monica stifled a laugh, and Chandler looked the required amount of indignant for his best friend.

            "Whatever, I think I'll pass on drinking in your kitchen with all your annoying friends," Ross shot back.

            "Hey!" Monica protested.

            "And Monica," Ross added quickly.

            "Nice save," Chandler said sarcastically.

            "Anyway, who cares if you're not there, it's going to be a lot of fun.  So you two can just squeeze every last drop of excitement out of hanging out with your parents watching the ball drop.  Come on, Monica, let's go upstairs," Rachel said, still in a huff at Ross's rejection.

            Monica stood to follow her friend, shooting her brother and Chandler an amused look, as three small children barreled into her legs and sent her flying backwards into a surprised Chandler's lap.  

            "Play with us, play with us, play with us!" chanted Abby, Olivia, and Maggie, three of many Geller cousins in attendance that evening.

            A red-faced Monica shifted her weight off of Chandler and was promptly replaced in his lap by six year old Maggie.

            "Chandler, we want _you_ to play with us.  We're playing beauty parlor and we have no customers."

            "Uh, well, I don't know.  I mean, I think your buddy Rachel over there _really_ likes it when people play with her hair," Chandler said, looking at Rachel wickedly.  Her hands flew instinctively over her long golden locks.  

            "Ross needs a haircut," Rachel announced when it was clear the girls were focusing their attention on her.

            "No, no, no, this looks too good already," said Ross.  Chandler re-directed his evil smile to Monica, who had been watching the scene unfold quietly next to him on the couch.

            "Well, you know who that leaves," he said.  "She likes it when you put lots of little braids in and then knot them all together."  The little girls squealed in delight and began pulling their cousin out of the room.

            "Fine, fine, I'm coming, stop pulling," Monica said.  She looked over her shoulder at the three laughing faces behind her, singled out Chandler, and mouthed the words "You're dead".

            Almost an hour later, the girl's fingers had been pried from Monica's hair when their parents insisted it was time to go home.  When the last guest had trickled out, Mr. and Mrs. Geller went up to bed, followed by Ross not too much later.  Chandler sat at the kitchen table, not tired yet, with the left-over apple pie.  He realized he hadn't seen Monica since he had fed her to the lions, and wondered if she was sleeping.

            His question was answered a few minutes later when she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.  He had to hold back a laugh when he saw her; her usually smooth hair was frizzed into a hundred little knots.

            "They took your stylistic advice," she said dryly.

            "Hey, I think it looks great.  You've always been a trendsetter," he said, holding up his hands.

            "Ha ha, very funny.  I can't get it out!" she moaned.  He noticed the comb in her left hand and motioned for her to come closer.

            "Here, let me try."

            She eyed him suspiciously.  "Something tells me you don't have a huge background in the cosmetic arts."

            "You obviously did not grow up in my father's house," Chandler retorted.  He patted his knee, and she sat down reluctantly, handing him the comb.  He began gingerly separating the snarled hair.

            "Did you have fun tonight?" she asked after a few moments.

            "Sure," he said, detangling a purple elastic and handing it to her.

            "I can't even imagine how boring it must have been if it's not even your family."

            "Really, it's fine.  I like spending the holidays here," Chandler said.

            "You mentioned your dad before…" Monica began tentatively.  The two of them had grown pretty close that past semester, but none of their conversations had progressed past the gentle teasing level.  She wasn't sure he wanted them to.

            "Yeah?" he prodded.  _Snap_, out came a rhinestone barrette.

            "How come you don't see him for Christmas?" she asked, hoping she wasn't overstepping her bounds.

            She felt him shrug.  "We're not very close.  He lives in Vegas.  Guess I'd rather be here."

            "I'll bet he misses you," she said.  He didn't say anything, and she sensed their time on the deeper level was up.

            "Anyway, I'm glad you're here," she tried, her tone lighter.  "Even if you do help six year olds torture me for an hour."  He laughed.

            "Hey, I'm helping you fix it, right?  I'm almost done."

            He combed in silence for a few minutes, and was suddenly aware of the fact that she was straddling his thigh.  Her hair smelled sweet, like lilacs and peaches.  _What are you smelling her hair for?_ he asked himself disbelievingly.  He brushed harder.

            "Ow!" she exclaimed.

            "Ah, sorry, sorry!"

            "It's okay," she laughed.  "You were doing fine up til then."

            She twisted her ring around her finger in circles, suddenly very aware of his fingers in her hair, practically massaging her scalp.  Goosebumps rose up her arms and she didn't know why.

            "Hey, who were those pictures of above your desk?" he asked.

            "Just friends from high school."

            "Who's that guy in a bunch of them?" He knew how weird his voice sounded asking, but he really wanted to know who that guy was, that guy with his arm around her.

            "Oh.  That's my friend Will.  We went to prom together and stuff."

            Her hair was completely detangled, once again falling smoothly just past her shoulders.  He continued brushing it.

            "And stuff?  Was he your boyfriend?" he asked in a teasing singsong.

            "No," she said too quickly.  "Not exactly."  

            "Oh, one of those."

            "One of _what_, exactly?" she asked sharply, and he knew he hit a nerve.

            "Nothing.  Is he going to be at Rachel's thing?"  She reached back, ran her fingers through her hair, and realized he was done.

            "I don't know," she said, standing.  She scooped the pile of hair accessories that had accumulated on the table into her hand.  "Are _you_?"

            He shrugged.  "If Ross wants to."

            She looked up at him, and smiled briefly.  "Thanks," she said, indicating her hair.

            "No problem, it was the least I could do."

            "I'm going to bed."

            "Goodnight," he said.  Something had spooked her, and he knew it because it had spooked him too.

            "Night," she said.  Halfway out of the kitchen she stopped and said quietly, "You should come."  

            He smiled as she walked the rest of the way to the stairs and up to her room.  Something that he should skip the party, stay home by himself and call to Evelyn on the phone- that's what she would want.  But something else told him that he wouldn't end up doing that.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.****  Hi!!  Back with the third chapter.  At this point, just so you know, I have absolutely no idea how long this story will end up to be.  I could either make it a nice, neat 5 parter, or another epic (haha).  I think I'll just see where it goes!  Hope you like chapter three—please review!!!  I can't believe I have 45 reviews from 2 chapters- you guys are so awesome!!  And have a fabulous day (and a Happy Easter, or late Happy Passover, or Happy Sunday!)  OH!!  I almost forgot- some of you are really a whole lot smarter than me (especially Dupton), and seem to have made a few connections that were unintentional, including the mention of Will, who actually had no connection to the Brad Pitt character in my head.  But you guys can imagine him however you want ****J****  So bravo to everyone smarter than me!  *Maddy ends rambling novel of an author's note***

_All at once you look across a crowded room_

_Too see the way that light attaches to a girl._

"You promised, Chandler.  You said ten thirty, and I stayed home because you were going to call!"

          Chandler held the phone away from his ear as Evelyn whined for several more moments, before bringing it back and closing his eyes.

          "Ev, I'm sorry I ruined your night.  But seriously, I just forgot, okay?  Nothing sinister, no ulterior motive, no hidden subconscious meaning.  I fell asleep watching a movie, and called you as soon as I woke up this morning.  I'm sorry, but it happens."

          "Watching a movie with who?" she asked, her voice as warm as a steel trap.

          "Ross, who else?" he lied.  Ross had been sick for days and was asleep last night before eight.  He and Monica had been spending the past week together, just joking around and watching TV.  Chandler didn't know why he didn't want Evelyn to know that, but he didn't.

          "Evelyn, I'm sorry.  It won't happen again."

          "Okay," she said, her voice softer.  "I'm sorry, baby… I guess I just miss you.  I over-reacted.  But I know it's harder on you.  I mean, I'm home, with my friends… you're in Long Island with… Ross."

          "It's not so bad.  I'm having a lot of fun, actually," said Chandler.

          Evelyn's brief pause before her "I'm glad," revealed her true feelings, which were the exact opposite.  If they weren't together, he should be miserable, was her general sentiment, one that he clearly did not share.

          "Chandler!" Monica called as she bounded through the back door.  "Could you help me load the car?"

          "Just a second!" he yelled back.

          "Monica?" Evelyn asked, unsuccessfully trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.

          "Yeah, I have to go," he said, knowing the trouble he was asking for.  "I promised I'd help her."

          "With what?"

          "Bring some stuff over to Rachel's.  She's having a party tonight."

          "Are you going?" she asked.

          Chandler hadn't even been sure he was, especially with Ross still practically comatose on cough syrup, but something about her controlling tone and the constant guilt trip she was giving him made him reply, "Yeah, I am."

          "I thought Ross was sick," she said sharply.

          "He is.  I'm going by myself."

          "By yourself, or with her?"

          "Her?" he echoed.  "She has a name.  And she's my friend, and yes, I'm going to the home of another friend who is having a party, where I will most likely meet a group of their collective friends and proceed to socialize with them."

          "Don't be an asshole," she seethed.

          "Going out on New Years Eve is me being an asshole?"

          "Forget it, Chandler.  Do what you want.  Go get completely wasted with Monica and screw her and get it over with," she said, right before she hung up.  

          Chandler groaned, and prepared to re-dial her number and apologize, _again_.  He had to hold the record on number of apologies before noon.

          "Hey, the card table's heavy.  What are you doing?" Monica asked, entering the living room.  He looked at the phone, and back at her.

          "Nothing," he said, hanging up the receiver and following her into the kitchen.  "I'm ready for my heavy lifting."

          "You sure you don't want me to stay home and hang out with you?" Chandler asked Ross as he ran a comb through his hair.

          Ross shook his head and sneezed from under the afghan on his bed.  

          "I'm fine, man.  My night's gonna be all about Kleenex, NyQuil, and Dick Clark.  Even my _parents_ are getting out of here.  You'd die of boredom."  Ross sneezed again, which set off his hacking cough.

          "Or of germs," Chandler grimaced.  

          "Plus, I'm glad you'll be there.  To keep an eye on the girls," he wheezed.

          "Okay, I'm getting out of here before I end up in intensive care," Chandler deadpanned, grabbing his wallet.  "Call me if you need anything- like an ambulance."

          Downstairs, Monica was already on the couch waiting for him.

          "I can't believe I was ready before you," she said, rolling her eyes.  "You're so high maintenance."  

He couldn't help but look her up and down as she stood up.  The red silk halter top she wore was practically backless, and her jeans slung just low enough on her hips to reveal a half inch of skin when she moved.  

She pulled a black cardigan over her shoulders and flipped her hair out from beneath it's collar.  "Ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.  She halted him with her arm as he headed for the door.

"Hey, you look nice," she said, almost as if surprised.  The dark blue shirt he wore emphasized his blue eyes, and she hardly ever saw him dressed up.

"You're not disgusting to look at, either."  She punched him lightly.

"Can you ever just be serious?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Nope."

          There were already close to fifty people at the Green's house when they arrived.  Rachel ran over to them as soon as they walked through the door.

          "You guys, this is _insane_.  Amy invited like her _entire_ graduating class or something!  I'm so screwed if the neighbors tell my parents…" she rambled nervously.

          "Rach, relax, it's fine.  It's not even that loud.  You can't even hear that much from outside," Monica said, exaggerating the truth to calm her friend.

          "Really?" she asked.  "Okay, good.  Because this is only, like, _the_ best party ever!  Hi Chandler!"

          "Hey," he greeted.  

          "Okay, Mon, _everyone's_ already here, Holly and John and Beth are over there, and Lauren and Ashley are right there, and of course, _Will_ is right _there_," she said pointedly.

          Chandler's head whipped faster than Monica's did to the corner Rachel pointed to.  "And, I must say, he looks _really_ good," Rachel said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

          "Okay," Monica said.

          "I mean, like _really_ hot, like off the charts, ridicul-"

          "I said _okay_, Rachel!" Monica interrupted.  "Why don't you go get a drink?"

          "Okay!" she said, making her way back towards the kitchen.

          Monica smiled at Chandler a little awkwardly as she took off her sweater.

          "Is this weird?  Bunch of people you don't know?"

          "I know you," he said, taking her cardigan from her.  "And Rachel.  And I've heard stories of Rachel's hot, slutty sister.  Who is where, by the way?" he joked. 

          "There," Monica said, pointing across the crowded room to a scantily clad Amy Green dancing on the Geller's twenty year old card table.  

          "Nice," Chandler said sarcastically.  "I'll go get us drinks."  

          When he came back out of the kitchen, Will was throwing his arms around Monica excitedly.  He approached them.

          "How are you?  You look… awesome," Will was saying, holding her hands and surveying her.  She grinned.  "You too," she said.  "How's UConn treating you?"

          "Pretty good," he said.  "I've missed the old crew though.  Especially you," he said, lowering his voice.  Monica noticed Chandler at that moment.  

          "Hey!" she said.  

          "Hey," he replied, handing her one of the two plastic cups he was carrying.

          "Will, this is Chandler, Chandler, this is Will."  The two shook hands.

          "Nice to meet you, Chandler."

          "You too," he said.  

          "Chandler!" Rachel squealed, grabbing his arm suddenly and jerking him away.  "You have _got_ go meet our friends!  Come on!" she pulled him away.  Chandler gave Monica a helpless smile before being lost in the crowd.

          Will laughed.  "Rach's had a few already, huh?"

          Monica agreed.   "So, are you here with anyone?" she asked.

          "No.  There isn't anyone," he said honestly.  

          "Come on," she said with a smile.  "A suave starting short-stop like yourself?"

          "Doesn't quite impress the way it did in high school."

          She laughed.  "You mean, like it did with easy-to-impress me?" 

          "Hey, do you wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute?" he asked abruptly.  

          "Sure…" she agreed.  

          Chandler watched Will lead Monica out the back door from his seat in between Rachel and Holly on the couch.  Holly was drunkenly entertaining them with tales of her college experience and Rachel was half listening, half keeping an eye on her wild child older sister.  Trying to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that overcame him as he watched who he could only assume was Monica's high school boyfriend lead her through the crowd with his hand lingering a little too low on her back.

          "So, I've sent you a few letters," Will said.  They sat on Rachel's porch swing, each nursing a beer.

          "Yes.  I meant to thank you," she said.

          "So you got them then.  I wasn't sure when I didn't get a response.  I guess NYU has you too busy for old friends," he teased, only half kidding.

          "Not at all," she protested.  "It's not like that."

          "Then what's it like?"

          She picked a piece of lint off her jeans.  "We were pretty clear about the way we left things in August," she finally said.

          "Yeah.  I remember.  We said we would stay friends.  Last time I checked, friends still sent eachother letters."

          "I know.  I'm sorry I've been MIA.  I was just unsure of how to… be, with you."

          "I've missed you, Mon," Will said.  "I know we were never like, officially dating, but… you're the only girl I ever really cared about."  He put a hand on her knee and she looked at him, then removed it gently.

          "I care about you too."

          "…But?"

          "But I'm having a really great time at college.  I'm meeting all these new people and I have this totally separate life, and I love that.  I really can't go back, now."

          "You can't tell me you don't feel anything for me.  I know you," he said.  He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her face.

          "Is it that guy?  Charlie?"

          "Chandler," she corrected.  While she answered "No, it's not," she didn't know why it felt like a lie.

          "So, what's the deal with Monica and that guy?" Chandler asked Rachel casually.

          "Will?" she asked, just drunk enough to be completely honest but not too drunk to be coherent.  "Oh, they had this weird relationship last year.  He was this super popular baseball player and they were lab partners.  He started hanging out with our group of friends a lot, and then asked her to prom… there was this total attraction and they were kind of together but not really, you know?  He didn't want to get too involved before the summer and she didn't want to get hurt so they just kept it casual."

          "Casual?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

          Rachel laughed.  "Please, they didn't have _sex_ or anything, because she _wouldn't_," she said too loudly.  Chandler hushed her.  "I didn't _ask_ you that," he hissed.

          "That's what you _wanted _to ask.  Since when are you so interested in Monica, anyway?" she asked.

          "Is your sister supposed to be smoking in the house?" he asked quickly.  She hurried away, momentarily rescuing him from answering that question, even to himself.

          After leaving a disappointed but understanding Will on the porch, Monica returned to the party to find Chandler.  She had to figure out why she was feeling like this, and if her sudden apathy toward Will, who she had been completely obsessed with, had something to do with Chandler.  She found him still on his first beer, leaning against the wall.

          "Sorry," she said, standing next to him with her back to the wall.

          "Oh, that's okay.  Everything all right?"

          "I think so.  We just had something he wanted to talk about."

          "You never told me you had a boyfriend," he said, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

          "For one thing, I don't, and for another, does it matter?" she asked pointedly.

          "I don't know," he admitted quietly.  She stepped back, surprised.

          "What?" she asked, fidgeting with her belt buckle.

          "Nothing," he said quickly.  

          "Okay…"

          "I'm sorry, I don't know… I don't know what my deal is," he said in frustration.

          "What do you mean?"

          "I don't know why I'm asking all these jealous questions and getting… I don't know… agitated about this guy.  I don't know why… why I can't stop thinking about you, and why my phone's been vibrating in my pocket this entire time and I know it's Evelyn, and I don't care."

          Monica looked up at him curiously.  "What are you saying?"

          "One minute to go!" yelled a drunken guest, as a crowd hurrying to get to the TV and watch the midnight countdown pushed Monica into Chandler.

          "I'm saying I'm confused," he said.  "And you look beyond beautiful.  And I'm being serious, like you asked me to be."

          She blushed.  "I'm confused too," she admitted.  "I'm always thinking about you, wanting to be around you, and you have a girlfriend, and it's wrong, and I can't… I can't make myself want to be with Will, or even explain to him why I don't want to be."

          "I'm so incredibly attracted to you," he said lowly, licking his lips.  Their faces were inches apart in the compactness of the crowd.

          "I know," she said, evading his intense gaze.

          "10!  9! 8!" the count down continued.

          "I'm kissing you at one," Chandler said.

          "No.  No, Chandler," she protested, but didn't move.

          "Yes.  At one, I'm kissing you."

          "You'll regret it.  You're drunk."

          "I haven't even had a whole beer.  I might regret it, but I don't care.  I'm kissing you at one."

          She stared at him.  "Okay," she said finally.

          "Three, two-"

          His lips were on hers before "1", actually.  As if he couldn't wait any longer, he covered her mouth with his.  Her body had never responded so completely to something, and she pressed herself closer to him almost involuntarily.  His tongue pushed past her lips and her hands tangled in his hair as party horns were blown, confetti strewn, and people cheered, kissed, and sang around them, but Chandler and Monica were lost in only each other.  

          They knew subconsciously that there were going to be consequences when they finally pulled themselves apart and back to reality.  So they just kept kissing, until their lips were swollen and their hair mussed from the other's hands, long after the TV was turned off and the crowd had gone back to their respective activities before the countdown.  Both afraid of what would happen once their moment was over, they held onto it for as long as they could.

**How long was THAT?!??  Sorry to leave you all hanging, but I had to cut it off somewhere!  Thanks for reading- please don't forget to review!  Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.****  Hi everyone!  Thanks for all the great reviews, it really means a lot to me.  And thanks for being so patient, I know I'm a little slow on updates (what else is new).  Okay cutting this note short because I'm late (again, what else is new?!)  Read, enjoy, review!!  Thanks!**

**-Maddy.**

_And the feeling, that it's all a lot of oysters_

_But no pearls….___

Chandler dug his hands further into his pockets and snuck a glance at Monica.  They were both walking ridiculously slow, acutely aware that in the short distance of six houses was their destination, and upon reaching it, decisions would have to be made, and things would have to be said.  Deciding that the four remaining houses between the Green's and the Geller's homes would be more agonizing in silence, Chandler said the first words they'd spoken to eachother since their make out incident nearly ten minutes earlier.

          "So, are you going to talk to me, or…"

          She looked up at him, startled that he was speaking.  "Are you?"

          "I am.  You're the one who can't stop staring at your shoes."

          She shrugged.  "What do you want me to say?"

          He looked at her incredulously.  "I don't _want_ you to say anything.  Say whatever _you_ want to say."

          "Maybe I don't know the answer to that yet," she said sharply.  

          He sighed.  "Why are we fighting?"

          "I don't know," she admitted, running her hands through her hair.

          "Listen," he said, halting them on the sidewalk, and taking both her hands in his.  "I don't want this to be a problem, okay?  So, if it is, and you hate me now, can we just forget it happened?  Please?"

          "I don't hate you.  And the only person this stands to be problematic for is you."

          "Meaning?"

          She looked at him pointedly.  "Meaning your cell phone doesn't stop ringing just because you're here with me and she's in another state."

          "Is that what you think this was?  Convenience for me?  You being here, and her being away?"

          Monica evaded his gaze and shrugged again.  "Truthfully?  Maybe.  I don't know."

          "Well, thanks for your confidence in me, but I'd like to think I have a little more character than that."

          "Well, what am I supposed to think?  I'm one of the boys at school and then we leave and come here, and all the sudden you're kissing me?"

          "That kiss felt pretty mutual to me," he said, raising his voice.

          "Yeah, well, _you're_ the one who always felt platonically about this friendship!  I _never_ have," she argued.  He stared at her, and her hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she said.

          "What?" Chandler asked in disbelief.

          "Nothing.  Nothing, let's go," she muttered, walking ahead of him.  He caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm.

          "No, explain that.  What are you saying?"

          "God, Chandler, it doesn't even matter, okay?  So I've kind of had feelings for you, big deal!  I dealt with them, it's not like I've been pining or anything, so don't worry about it.  Let's pretend none of this ever happened and I can go back to being the little sister you never had, okay?" 

          "Not okay, Monica, _not_ okay.  I don't know what kind of relationship you have with Ross, but I don't think I should be feeling this way about a sister."

          She looked up at him.  "Really?"  They began walking again.

          "Yeah.  Listen, maybe you're right, I did look at you as one of the guys a lot, at school.  But if I did, it was only because if I looked at you any other way, bad things would happen," he said.

          "Bad things?" she echoed.

          "Yeah.  Like tonight."

          "Tonight wasn't bad," she noted.  

          "I loved kissing you.  And that's scary, and that's bad, because I have a girlfriend, and you have a brother that would probably be unhappy, and there are all these complications-"

          "I don't care," she said.

          "But, I can't even promise you that I'd-"

          "I don't care.  I'm not looking for a ring, here, okay?  I felt something for you, I kissed you, I have no regrets.  No matter what happens, that was a really great kiss.  So let's just leave it, for now."

          "Why are you so cool about this?" he asked incredulously.  "How can you be so casual when it's taking every ounce of self control I have not to be all over you right now?"

          She smiled.  "Because I know that we're going to be fine either way."

          He took her hand as they approached the front door.

          "So… we're okay, for now?"

          "Fine," she assured him, dropping his hand to unlock the door.  He rubbed her shoulder affectionately, and felt her freeze as she walked into the house.

          "Evelyn… hi…" she stammered.  Chandler followed her gaze to see Ross, wrapped up in a blanket, and Evelyn seated on the living room couch.

          "Hello, Monica," she said coolly.  

          "Ev… what… what are you doing here?" Chandler asked, trying to sound happy.  Ross shrugged apologetically from where only Chandler could see.

          "I felt horrible about our fight… and I missed you… I'm so sorry.  I wanted to come see you in person, and to give you this," Evelyn said, walking towards him.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.  Ross made a puking gesture to Monica jokingly, but was surprised to find his sister's face ashen, and not amused.

          "Happy New Year, baby," Evelyn cooed as she released Chandler.

          "Uh, Happy New Year," he said uncomfortably.  Monica refused to make eye contact with him, stepping instead towards her brother and handing him the cookies she had taken home with her from the party.

          "These are for you, hope you're feeling better," she said tightly.  "I'm going to sleep.  Goodnight."

          Chandler watched her hurry up the stairs helplessly, joining Ross in calling "Goodnight" after her.  

          Monica collapsed on her bed fighting tears.  She was_ not _going to cry about this.  It was so stupid.  So they kissed, big deal.  It wasn't like he even cared, judging by the way he kissed Evelyn back.  She didn't care either, not at all.  He could do whatever he wanted.  But _God_, she hated that bitch.

          An hour later, after tossing, turning, and analyzing the situation to death, Monica was finally about to drift off to sleep when a light knock came at her door.  She stood reluctantly and straightened her tank top and shorts before answering the door.

          "Hi," Evelyn said, looking past her into the dark bedroom.  "Were you sleeping?"

          "No, what's up?"

          "Ross told me I should sleep in here," she said flatly.  

          Monica tried not to look as dismayed as she felt.  "Why?"

          "Chandler doesn't feel comfortable being in the same room with me in your parents' house," Evelyn said, and Monica thought she saw her roll her eyes.

          "Okay.  Yeah, that's fine," Monica said, opening the door wider and letting Evelyn drop her suitcase on the floor.

          "Uh, how was your flight?" Monica asked, trying to maintain some kind of politeness.

          "Fine.  How was your _party_?" Evelyn asked with sarcastic sweetness.

          "It was okay."

          "I'll bet it was," she muttered under her breath.

          "What?"

          "Nothing.  Goodnight."

          "Night," Monica replied uncomfortably, unable to comprehend the irony of the fact that she was about to spend a night sharing a bed with Chandler's girlfriend.  Sometimes she really didn't appreciate life's kind of humor.

          The next morning, Monica woke up early and slipped out of her room.  She headed downstairs, where her mother was having coffee and reading the newspaper.

          "Good morning, you're up early," Judy said, surprised.

          "Couldn't sleep.  How was your party?"

          "It was fun, we had a good time.  How was yours?" 

          Monica stiffened while pouring herself a mug of coffee.  "What party?"

          "Monica, I'm your mom, but I'm not stupid," Judy said with a smile.

          "It was fine.  It wasn't really a big deal.  You're not going to tell her parents, are you?"

          "Tell Sandra Green _anything_ after the way she behaved at your graduation party?  Please.  So what's with the sour-puss who was sitting on our couch when we got home?"

          Monica rolled her eyes and sat down next to her mom.  "That's _Evelyn_."

          "I know that, we were somewhat introduced by Ross."

          "Chandler's girlfriend.  She surprised him."

          "She really doesn't seem like a match for Chandler," Judy said.  "She's not very friendly."

          "That's an understatement.  I can't believe she's here."

          "Was Chandler happy to see her?"

          "I don't know.  I guess," Monica said, tracing the rim of her mug.

          "But you weren't?"

          "We're not exactly close," Monica replied dryly.

          "Well, I hope she's not staying long, because I don't like her."

          Monica smiled.  Rachel burst through the front door.

          "Mon?  Hey, I got your messages- I can't believe that bitch is actually- oh, hi Mrs. Geller," Rachel finished sheepishly, walking into the kitchen.

          "Hi, Rachel.  Are your parents enjoying their vacation?"

          "Yes, they are."

          "Good.  If you and your sisters want to come over for dinner tonight, the three of you are more than welcome."

          Monica snorted.  "That would be an interesting group.  You, Dad, me and Ross, Rachel, Amy, and Jill, Chandler, and _Evelyn_."

          "Ew what is she _doing_ in our _state_?"

          "Try _my bed_," Monica groaned.

          "All right, I'll let you girls gossip.  Just keep your voices down, we don't want to appear inhospitable."

          Monica rolled her eyes and whispered "Heaven forbid we look inhospitable," as her mother walked out of the kitchen.

          "I can't believe she's here, Mon, that's totally the most horrific case of bad timing I've ever heard."

          "What do you mean?"

          "What do I _mean_?  You're telling me after half a beer you don't remember being wedged between Chandler and a wall for like fifteen minutes last night?"

          Monica gasped.  "Shh!  You saw that!?"

          "Who _didn't _see that?  People were maneuvering around you!  You are _so_ lucky Ross was sick."

          "Okay, Rach, please, please, don't mention this again, okay?  Please?"

          "Why?  Because of Evelyn?"

          "Yes, because of Evelyn!  She's upstairs!"

          "Okay, okay, don't hyperventilate.  We'll just talk about this later.  Coffee, please?" 

          Monica poured some for her friend.  Chandler came into the kitchen while she stood with her back to the door, and when she turned around to see him standing there she jumped a little bit.

          "Sorry, I didn't meant to scare you," he said.

          "It's okay."  She set the drink down for Rachel.

          "Have fun last night?" Rachel asked innocently.  Monica glared at her.   

          "Yeah.  It was fun.  Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" Chandler asked in Monica's direction.

          "Sure," she said.  "Be right back."

          They went out to the porch and sat on the front steps.

          "First of all, I didn't know she was coming," he began defensively.

          "I know."

          "Okay.  And I'm sorry about the kiss."

          "Ours?" she asked icily.  He looked at her and shook his head.

          "No, you know that's not what I meant.  I'm sorry about us kissing in front of you, making you uncomfortable."

          "You didn't seem too sorry about it," she said, staring out at the street.

          "What was I supposed to do?  Push her off of me?  She's my girlfriend, Monica."

          "I know that," she shot back.

          "Well, then what do you want from me?" he asked, frustrated.  

          "Nothing.  I want nothing from you," she said, standing up.  "Oh, actually, that's not true.  I want you to figure out new sleeping arrangements, because her staying with me is not gonna work."

          "I'm sorry, that was Ross's plan, I tried to stop it-"

          "Just figure something out," she said.  She reached for the door.

          "Mon…" he began.  She paused and turned to look at him, trying to avoid melting under his blue gaze.

          "What?" she asked.

          "I'm sorry," he offered weakly, not knowing what else he could say.

          "Yeah," she said quietly before she went inside.  "You keep saying that."

_Okay that's it!  Oh, and a couple things.  First, I know I'm making Judy totally unlike her character on the show, but I have my reasons… basically, I really hate the way she is in a lot of fanfics, I feel like it's sort of exaggerated meanness, and plus for the purposes of this fic the relationship between Monica and Judy really isn't central so in my opinion it might as well be whatever I want it to be.  And second, don't worry, Phoebe and Joey are coming soon.  Please review!!! Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.  Okay no way were you guys expecting this so soon!  Haha, I shocked even myself when I finished this- two updates in one week!  This chapter is a little bit sad, and you guys might not like what happens, but there's much more to come, so try to stay with me!  It's sort of more broken up little pieces than the other parts have been, just trying something new.  Please read and review!  Thanks!**

**-Maddy**

_And it's one more day up in the canyon_

_And it's one more night in __Hollywood__…_

        "Are you sure you have everything, sweetie?" Judy asked Ross, reluctant to end the embrace and have her son leave.

        "Positive, mom," Ross insisted.  "We should really get going if we don't wanna hit traffic."

        "Oh, all right.  Bye sweetie," Judy said, turning her attention to Monica.  "Make sure he doesn't drive too fast."

        "I will.  Bye mom," she said, giving her mother a hug, surprised at how much she was going to miss her.  

        "Where are Chandler and Evelyn?" Judy asked.  It had been a week since Evelyn's impromptu visit, and much to Monica and Rachel's dismay, she had decided to spend the rest of the vacation at the Gellers and drive back to school with them.  It hadn't been the best week, with Evelyn jealous and controlling, Monica avoiding both of them at all costs, and Chandler trying to make everything as normal as possible.

        "Last minute packing," Ross explained.

        "We're here, sorry about that," Chandler apologized, running down the stairs with Evelyn at his heels.

        "No problem, everybody ready?  We still have to pick up Rach," Ross said.

        As Chandler and Evelyn were thanking Mrs. Geller and saying goodbye, Ross and Monica went outside to load up the trunk. A blue car pulled up alongside the curb and Will jumped out and headed towards them.

        "Mon!" called Will.  "I'm glad I caught you."

        "Hey… what are you doing here?" she asked, confused.

        "I need to talk to you.  Can I, for a minute?"

        Monica looked at Ross, who shrugged.  "Okay, but I really have to go in a second."  

        Chandler walked out of the house, Evelyn at his heels, in time to see Monica and Will go into his car and close the doors.

        "Where is she going?" he asked Ross as casually as he could.

        "Nowhere.  He needed to talk," Ross said, rolling his eyes.  For a down to earth girl, his sister certainly found her share of teen drama.

        "Who is that?" Evelyn asked curiously.  "I didn't know Monica had a boyfriend."

        "She doesn't," Ross and Chandler said at the same time.  

        "Oh," Evelyn replied, unable to hide her disappointment.

        "He's a friend from high school," Ross said.  "Who is going to make us hit traffic."

        "Want me to go get her?" Chandler asked eagerly, hopping off the front steps and starting towards the car.

        "No, dude, give them a minute," Ross said.

        "I'm sorry to come over without calling but I really wanted to say goodbye," Will said.

        "Sort of cutting it down to the wire," she said, checking her watch.

        "I know.  I'm sorry.  I wish I could have spent more time with you this break, but… I guess you were busy," he said bitterly, gazing at Chandler through the window.

        "Not really," she said.  "You could have come over, or called."

        "Why did you lie to me?" he asked suddenly.

        "What are you talking about?"

        "At Rachel's party, when you said you didn't want to be together.  You said it wasn't because of him," Will reminded her.

        "It _wasn't_," she said.  

        "I saw you guys kissing," he said quietly.  She closed her eyes briefly.

        "Will, that was nothing, okay?  It was a stupid, New Years Eve at midnight, spontaneous thing.  He has a girlfriend.  Not that I need to _explain_ myself to you."

        "I deserve the truth.  I deserve that much, Monica."

        "I'm telling you the truth.  I thought maybe there was something there, but… I was wrong," she said, staring out in front of her.

        "He's the dumbest guy in the world, then," he said after a moment.  

        She smiled a little.  "You're very sweet."

        He leaned towards her and her heart rate quickened, not sure what to do.

        "You're amazing," he said quietly.  He closed the few inches between them and kissed her hesitantly, and, when she didn't stop him, pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.

        Ross and Chandler were compacting all of their belongings in the trunk to make room for Rachel's, which would no doubt exceed all of their bags put together.  

        "You can't leave that backpack in the back seat, it's gonna be crammed enough as it is," Chandler argued.

        "It won't be that crowded," Ross rolled his eyes.

        "Easy for you to say, you'll be up front.  All Rachel has to do is claim motion sickness and bat her eyelashes and I'll be wedged back here with a hiking pack on my lap."

        "You guys?" Evelyn asked innocently.  "If Monica doesn't have a boyfriend, how come she's making out with that guy right now?"

        Chandler hit his head on the top of the open trunk in his haste to follow her gaze, and felt the most intense pang of jealousy he had ever experienced when he saw that Evelyn was right.  Ross sighed, frustrated with Monica for making them wait, and leaned on the horn.

        The car horn broke them apart.  "I really have to go, my brother's gonna kill me," Monica said, flustered.

        "Okay.  Call me when you get back, okay?  We have some things to talk about," Will said, with a smile so genuine it made her smile, too.

        "Okay," she agreed.  He kissed her one more time, and she let him, indulging in a practice that was so familiar, so comfortable for both of them.

        "Bye," she said, slamming the door and racing back up the lawn towards her brother's car.  She turned and waved briefly, and Will drove away.

        "Sorry, Ross, that took too long, I know," she said, climbing in the backseat and buckling her seatbelt.

        "Fine," he grumbled.  "I didn't know you were back with him."

        Monica froze.  They had seen that?  One look at Chandler answered her question.  He sat in the front seat gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles were turning white, staring stonily in front of him.  Ross parked in Rachel's driveway and popped the trunk so that she could put her stuff in.

        "We're not," she said quickly.  

        "Oh, that's great, Mon, way to hook up with guys in front of our house that you're not even _dating_.  That's a great way to-"

        "Hook up with _who?_" Rachel screeched, shoving Monica closer to Evelyn and forgetting to complain about the backseat.

        "Will," Ross supplied as they drove away.

        "Shut up, Ross," Monica snapped, refusing to answer Rachel's questions or look at Evelyn's satisfied smirk.  All she could do was focus on Chandler's silence and his unhappy distant glare.

        The trip back to school was excruciating, to say the least.  Ross was right, they did hit traffic, and Chandler barely said four words the entire time.  The tension between Monica and Evelyn was palpable in the backseat, and they pulled into the NYU parking lot the exact same way they had left it nearly three weeks earlier; tense, anxious, and cranky.

        The boys and Evelyn dropped Rachel and Monica off outside their dorm, and Chandler hopped out to help them get their stuff out of the trunk.  Rachel thanked him, said goodbye, and got a head start up the stairs with her excess luggage weighing her down as Chandler and Monica tried to free her single blue duffle bag from the pile of suitcases.

        "Chandler, listen-" she began quietly.

        "You don't have to say anything," he cut her off, yanking the bag straps as hard as he could.

        "I don't know why it happened," she tried again.  "It was just the moment…"

        "That seems to happen to you a lot," he said coldly, freeing her bag and handing it to her.  She stared at him.

        "Please don't do this."

        "Don't do what?  I'm just helping you with your stuff."

        "Fine.  Whatever," she turned to leave.  He closed the trunk and started back to the front seat, but she grabbed his hand and lowered her voice to a whisper.

        "Just remember, _you're_ the one with the girlfriend, okay?  You're the one who made everything perfectly clear to me when we walked through my front door that night."

        "You know I had no choice.  You know I was just waiting for the right time to deal with what happened between us," he hissed.

        "Yeah, well there is no right time, is there?" she asked.

        "I guess there's not," he said, grabbing his hand away and slamming the car door behind him.

        Monica hung up the phone after calling Will that night, as promised, in disbelief of what had just happened.  She had just agreed to give things with Will another try, long distance this time.  And a part of her was happy, it really was:  Will was kind, and he adored her, and he had made her really happy, once.  But another part of her knew that one of the reasons she had decided to go for it with Will was because she was angry at Chandler.

        She brushed her teeth and crawled into bed, Rachel already sleeping soundly across the room.  She hated being mad at Chandler, and she hated having him be mad at her even more.  Even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong; that if one of them should be apologizing, it was him, first for the way he handled the situation and then for the way he acted that afternoon, she couldn't sleep until she talked to him.

        She crept outside, stretching the phone cord under the door so she wouldn't wake up Rachel, and dialed the number to Ross and Chandler's room, praying he would pick up.  He did, on the second ring.

        "Hello?"

        "Hi, it's me," she said.  He paused.

        "Yeah?"

        "Can I please talk to you?" she asked.  He heard her voice waver slightly, and if there was one thing he couldn't do, it was be a jerk to her while she was crying.  He sighed.

        "Of course.  I'll meet you outside in five," he said.  

        Chandler sat on the steps of his building, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.  He knew that he had acted like a total asshole before, but he couldn't help himself; seeing her in that car, kissing that guy, it had done something to him.  She wasn't supposed to be kissing Will.

        He saw her half walking, half jogging over to him.  He stood up and watched as she approached; her hair was pulled back haphazardly, with strands flying everywhere in her hurry.  She wrapped her big ski jacket around her closer, and he had to smile at the pink terrycloth pajama pants she hadn't bothered to change out of.  He stopped smiling as she came to a stop in front of him.

        "Hi," she said.

        "Hey."

        "I hate fighting with you," she said.  Her cheeks were flushed from the cold January air, making her natural beauty even more striking.  He couldn't believe how long it took for him to realize how gorgeous she was.

        "I don't like it either," he admitted.  

        "I want you to know, that I don't blame you, for anything.  You did what you thought you had to do."

        "I'm sorry for what I said earlier.  You didn't deserve that."

        "You were upset," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

        "Still," he said, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.

        "Let's forget about it.  Let's just put everything behind us, and go back to being friends.  Please?" she pleaded.  He looked at her, wishing he had the ability to do just that.

        "I feel… I feel like that's going to be hard, Mon," he said softly.

        "You have Evelyn," she reminded him.  "That's what you want."

        "Yeah.  I guess it is."

        "And… I think… I think Will and I are giving it another try.  I just talked to him," she said quickly, in a rush.  He nodded slowly.

        "Well, if that's what you want," he said, "then that's what I want for you."

        She looked up at him, and unfallen tears shined in the cold winter moonlight.  "I can't have what I want," she said quietly.  "So I'm trying to want what I can have."

        He reached out and touched her cold cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone.

        "Me too, Mon," he said, pulling her into an embrace.  "Me too."

**Okay, that's it for now.  Leave a review if you want me to keep writing!  Oh, and about Phoebe and Joey- I changed my mind.  They probably won't be in this.  I don't want to just shove them in randomly just to include them, and I don't think they fit very well into this story- I couldn't do them justice.  Sorry to everyone who wanted to see them in here, and I hope you'll still keep reading ****J**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.****  Here's the next chapter!  I'm about to start the whole finals thing (aka, hell week), so you might not see an update from me for a little bit, and I wanted to post this part before all the craziness began!  I hope you like it!  Please read and review again, if you don't mind, hehe.**

**xoxo****, Maddy.**

_…And talked a little while about the year… _

****

"No, Monica, the reactions are _inversely_ proportionate to the- we _just _went over this!" Ross cried, exasperated.

                "I know, I'm sorry!  I'm just never going to get this," she said, kicking her textbook off the bed in exasperation.

                "Well, that'll help you learn it faster," Ross said sarcastically.

                "You don't have to get all arrogant, just because I'm not a crazed scientist… if it were English or Psych, you'd be asking _me_ for help," Monica said defensively.  

                Ross sighed.  Tutoring his sister in chemistry had not been his idea, and he knew it was going to be problematic from the start.  Their equally competitive natures made them all the more susceptible to frustration when they didn't understand something, and the fact that the other did only served to make them more frustrated.

                "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be obnoxious.  I only get this because I took it last year.  Now let's try again," Ross said, taking a deep breath.

                Monica shook her head.  "I can't right now, my brain is totally fried."  She stood up.  "I'm just gonna go for a run or something."

                "It's pouring rain," Ross pointed out.

                "Ross!"

                "Okay, fine, do whatever you want, you can be so impossible!" he cried as Chandler walked through the door of their double room.

                "Uh oh, sibling rivalry.  What are we feuding about today?"

                "Monica won't let me help her with chemistry."

                "Ross is only confusing me more," she argued.

                "Dude, first of all, what do you care if she won't let you help her?  You've got better things to do, don't you?  And Mon, I can help you with chemistry if you want.  I did pretty well in that, and you probably won't get as frustrated," Chandler mediated.

                They both considered his words.

                "You're right, I do have better things to do.  I'm going over to Carol's," Ross said, grabbing his raincoat and saying goodbye.

                "So, do you want me to help you?" he asked Monica.

                "You don't mind?" she asked.  Things had gotten much better between them over the past two weeks since they had been back at school, but things were by no means back to normal.  In fact, the time they spent together had decreased substantially, and this was probably one of the first moments they had been together alone since they had gotten back.

                "Of course not," he said, patting the bed next to him.  She sat down and opened her book again.  She sat on the corner, he noticed, not right next to him like she used to.

                "Before we start… how have you been?" he asked, causing her to look up at him, surprised.

                "Fine.  Why?"

                "I don't know.  I just feel like we haven't been spending too much time together lately," he said, picking at a loose thread of his quilt.

                "I know," she said.  "We've both been busy."

                "How's Will?" he asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

                "How's Evelyn?" she countered, then sighed.  "I'm sorry.  Will is… fine.  We talk a lot on the phone."

                "Evelyn's all right.  She's been a lot happier lately."

                "I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that you haven't been hanging out with me?" Monica said sarcastically.

                "Let's not talk about Evelyn," Chandler said.

                "Or Will," she added.

                "Fine."

                "Fine."

                Silence.  When had things gotten so incredibly weird?  They were either hostile, or uncomfortable, and they both hated it.

                "I hate how-" Chandler began, just as she started to say, "I wish that-"

                They laughed.  "Let's just study, okay?" she said.

                "Okay."

                Two hours later, and somewhere between positive and negative ions, concentration had been lost, as Chandler and Monica were currently sitting across from each other on his bed, Indian style, trying to balance pencils across the bridge of their noses.  

                "Okay, okay, my turn," he said, tilting his head to the ceiling and carefully placing the pencil across his nose, where it promptly slid off, causing Monica to erupt in more peals of laughter.  They didn't understand _why_ it was funny, it just was.

                "Wow, you really _suck_," she said.  "My turn."

                He watched her scrunch her nose slightly and gingerly put the pencil down, where it balanced for maybe half a second and fell off.  "I totally did it!" she declared.

                "No way.  That wasn't even a whole second, nice try," he scoffed, taking the pencil and trying again.

                "I got it!" he exclaimed, the pencil balanced across his nose finally.  "I did it, you suck, I rule at the pencil game, bow down to me-" he didn't get to finish, because Monica flicked the end of the pencil with her thumb and forefinger and it flew across the room.  He glared at her in disbelief, and she giggled nervously.

                "Oh, you are so dead," he said, grabbing her and pushing her down on the floor where he proceeded to tickle her mercilessly, ignoring her pleas for him to stop underneath her hysterical laughter.

                "That was evil, you're getting what you deserve," he yelled, before dissolving into laughter himself.  They both stopped laughing when they heard the door slam, and looked up to see a very pissed off looking Evelyn.

                "Hey Ev," Chandler said, scrambling to get off of Monica and back onto the bed.  Monica pulled down her shirt and stood quickly.

                "Hi," Evelyn said.

                "Hi Evelyn," Monica greeted.

                "I was just tutoring Monica in chemistry," Chandler said.

                "Oh yeah, I definitely would have guessed that," Evelyn said coldly.

                "We got a little stir crazy," he said.  

                "I'm gonna go catch up with Rachel," Monica said quickly.  "See you later?"

                "Sure.  Call me if you need more help," he said, then threw caution to the wind.  "You know, with chemistry _or_ your lacking skills in pencil Olympics."

                Monica giggled and shook her head.  "Bye Evelyn," she said, overly sweet.

                "Bye Monica.  Hey, good luck with that _chemistry_."

                "Thanks!"  _Kill her with kindness, _Monica reminded herself, flashing one more smile before leaving Chandler's room.

                "Can you just tell me one thing?  Why are you so jealous of her?" Chandler exploded after listening to Evelyn rant about him hanging out with Monica and their "inappropriate position" for a half an hour.

                "I am not _jealous_ of her," Evelyn scoffed.  "I am _concerned _when I walk in and my boyfriend is lying on top of some freshman slut-"

                "She's not a slut, Evelyn, and you know it."

                "Defending her, now?"

                "Well, yeah!  She's my friend, okay, my _best _friend, these days, and-"

            "I thought _I_ was your best friend!"

            "My best friend wouldn't attack me all the time, or try to control who I spend my time with!"

                "You can hang out with whoever you want.  Just don't try to pretend you don't want her."

                "What?" was the only response Chandler could get out without lying.

                "I see the way you look at her.  And I'm not stupid, I _know_ something happened at her house over Christmas."

                "If you're so sure something happened, then why are you still with me?" Chandler challenged.

                "Notice how you continue to avoid the issue?"

                He sighed.  "Okay.  Fine.  Something did happen on New Years.  We kissed at Rachel's party," he said, sitting down on the bed.  Evelyn's eyes flashed.

                "On New Years?  The same night you kissed _me_, you kissed _her_?"

                "Yes.  And I didn't tell you, because I wasn't going to do anything about it."

                "Yeah, because she's with Will now," Evelyn said sarcastically.

                "It doesn't matter, none of it matters.  This is over, Ev."

                She paused.  "This argument?"

                "No.  Everything.  I think we should just quit before we despise eachother."

                "Chandler- no.  Please.  We can work this out."

                "All we do is fight, Evelyn.  All you do is make me feel guilty, and all I do is resent you fro it.  I don't remember the last time I felt truly happy in this relationship.  What are we still doing this for?" he asked.

                "You can't be with her," she seethed.  "She's with someone else.  She doesn't want you."

                Chandler stood and opened his door for her to leave.  "You never did understand.  Our relationship is not about Monica.  She's not why it got bad, and she's not why I'm ending it."

                Evelyn stared at him.  "You're going to regret this.  She'll never make you happy."

                "Why don't you let me worry about making _myself_ happy, and I'll do the same for you," he called after her as she left his room.

                Monica hung up the phone at 12:21, nearly an hour after she had picked it up, smiling widely.  Rachel looked up from filing her nails and grinned at her friend.

                "That was a long conversation," she commented.

                "Yeah.  Will's visiting this weekend," Monica said casually.

                "Really?  That's great, Mon!"

                "Yeah."

                "Are you excited?"

                "I guess.  I'm nervous," Monica said, standing to change into her pajamas.

                "Are you nervous because you're happy, and you're afraid of that?" Rachel asked.  Monica shook her head, consistently amazed by the way Rachel knew her every thought, her every fear.

                "Right as always," she said.  "I don't know.  I guess I just… I'm just conflicted.  I didn't even know I _wanted _to like Will again, you know?  It kind of crept up on me, while I was all focused on worrying about the Chandler thing.  And at first it was just because I didn't have a good reason to say no, but now… now I don't know what's going on.  He's coming to visit, and I sort of can't wait."

                "I think it's a really good thing, Monica.  You and Will have both grown up a lot since last summer, and I know he's a great guy, and that he can make you smile, and that's good enough for me."

                "I guess it's good enough for me too, then," Monica said, only half kidding.  Someone knocked at the door, and Monica flung it open to reveal a very worn looking Chandler.

                "Hey Chandler," she said.  Rachel greeted him and continued filing her nails as he flopped down on Monica's bed.

                "I broke up with Evelyn," Chandler said dejectedly.  Rachel dropped her nail file, and her jaw, and stared at Monica, waiting for her reaction.

                "What?" Monica exclaimed.

                "I broke _up_ with _Evelyn_," he repeated slowly.

                "I _heard_ you the _first_ time," she said, annoyed.  "Why?"

                He looked at Rachel hesitantly, who took the hint and excused herself to visit a friend that lived downstairs.

                "So?  Why?" Monica prodded once she had left.

                "It just sucked.  I just hated being with her.  She picked a fight about you, again, about how we were hanging out."

                "She walked in at an unfortunate moment," Monica recalled, cringing.

                "Yeah, I guess that didn't look too good.  I told her.  Everything."

                "Really?"

                "Yeah.  She said she knew something happened, and I confirmed it."

                "So it's over, then?"

                "Yeah.  It's over."

                "How do you... how do you feel about that?" Monica asked carefully.

                "I feel pretty good about it.  I feel better than I did before I did it."

                "Well, then… congratulations," she said.

                "That's it?" he asked.

                "Were you expecting a parade?" she joked.

                "No, I guess I just… I guess I just figured that one of the main things between us is gone, now, and I thought you might-"

                "Throw my arms around you and ride off into the sunset?"

                "No.  But at least be happy we could spend more time together again," he said defensively.

                "Of course I'm happy about that," she said, her tone softening.

                "Good," he replied.  "Because spending time with you makes me really, really happy."  He leaned in towards her slowly, placing his hand on her thigh.  She knew she should stop him, before something disastrous happened, but she was suddenly lost in his eyes, the warm blue eyes she knew so well enveloping her.  He was moving in as  slowly as he could, as if to give her time to stop him.  She felt his breath on her lips, hot and real, and just as he brushed his lips against hers softly, she jerked away and removed his hand.

                "You can't do that," she said angrily.  "I'm not here for your convenience, when your girlfriend is out of town, the moment you don't have a girlfriend anymore…"

                "Monica, it's not like that, please don't think that," he pleaded.

                "What am I supposed to think?  You didn't even _consider_ the fact that I am _with_ somebody else right now!  Somebody who's coming to see me in five days, someone that I actually care about- what am I supposed to think, Chandler?"

                "I thought we both wanted this," he said, gesturing between them.  "I thought I knew what you wanted."

                "Things change," she said.  "I haven't been sitting here, waiting for you to come to your senses and dump Evelyn and come running to me.  I've been living my own life.  And I'm sorry if I ruined some little fantasy you had of breaking of with her and trying things out with me, but I'm not going to hurt Will like you hurt Evelyn."

                "You know what?  That's fine," Chandler said, standing.  "Because I know the only reason you're mad at me is because you want this too, and you're afraid, and you're confused."

                "You think you know me so _well_," she exclaimed incredulously.

                "I do.  I also know this isn't over," he said.  "Have fun with Will this weekend, convince yourself you're doing the right thing, but when you finally realize the mistake you've made, I'll be around.  Because I'm not going anywhere without you."

                "What are you saying?"

                "I'm saying that I'm in love with you, and that I'll wait until you're ready.  Whether it's in a week, a month, or a year.  I'll be here whenever you're ready," he said, and with that he walked out the door and left Monica alone, her head reeling with what had happened and the implications that it held for her future.

**Aaah****- don't forget to review if you want me to keep writing!  Thanks again, have a superb day!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.****  Sorry for the wait, but I'm doing the best I can, I promise.  Here's chapter seven, hope you like it.  Thanks for the great reviews and encouragement to continue!  (Could have lived without the death threat, but whatever, at least I've got a following, haha.)  Please read and review!!!  Thanks guys.**

**Xoxo****, Maddy.******

_I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,_

_Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her…_

"Will!" Rachel shouted, jumping up from her position on the steps of their dorm. 

            "Hey Rach," he greeted, lugging a navy canvas duffel bag out of the trunk and heading for her. 

            "Monica has class until 3 so I promised I'd flag you down and give you a proper NYU welcome," she said.

            "That was very nice of you," he teased.  "So, am I staying in your room?"

            "Yeah.  You can have my bed," Rachel replied, looking at him pointedly.  _As in, you won't be sleeping in hers, _was the unsaid implication.  "I'm staying with our friend Hailey down the hall."

            "Sounds good.  Lead the way," said Will.  He followed Rachel up the three flights of stairs and into the dorm room that she shared with Monica.  He nearly laughed out loud when he she opened the door, it was so reflective of their personalities that there may have well been a masking tape line down the middle (and he guessed there actually may have been, at one point or another.)  One side of the room was frilly and pink, from the plush down comforter to the beaded bedside lamp, and covered in clothes, books, and CDs.  The other side was meticulously neat, much simpler but stylish in a less obvious way; the bed was covered in a vintage quilt of soft blues and yellows, and where Rachel had tacked magazine advertisements and Vogue covers, Monica had hung photographs in funky, painted frames; Will was less than enthused to find that several featured Chandler.

            "So which side is which?" Will joked, prompting a sarcastic smile from Rachel.

            "Ha, ha.  I'm not done cleaning, obviously.  I'll get my stuff out of the way before you have to sleep here tonight."

            At that moment, Monica walked through the door from class.

            "Rachel!  You promised you'd clean up, you _promised_, Will is-"

            "Here," said Will, waving from his partially obstructed position behind Rachel.

            "Oh my god, Will!" Monica said happily.  They hugged and kissed quickly.

            "How was your drive?"

            "Not too bad, until I hit the city.  I thought the whole New York City aggressive driver thing was an exaggeration, but apparently I was wrong."

            "That's what Ross says," Rachel agreed. 

            "Hit any cabs?" teased Monica.

            "No, just an old lady on a bike."

            "Perfect aim from the baseball star."

            "She was asking for it," he joked.  The three of them sat down and talked for another hour, about the old high school gang and about how everyone was doing at college.  Rachel checked her watch and jumped up at 4:30.

            "Oh, wow, we're going to be late," she said, grabbing her sweater.

            "Late for what?" asked Monica, propped up on her elbows on her bed.

            "Tennis team's first match of the season, duh… Ross is waiting for us down at the courts."

            Monica reddened and shook her head violently, hoping Rachel would see and Will wouldn't, but just the opposite happened.

            "I didn't know you were such a tennis fan," Will said, directing his comment to Rachel but looking at Monica.

            "I'm not, Chandler plays third singles…" Rachel trailed off, finally realizing why the topic was uncomfortable.  "But he probably isn't expecting Mon to be there, so I'll just go meet Ross and watch for a while… no big deal… see you guys later," she said less than smoothly, mouthing an apology to Monica before running out the door.

            Monica smiled at Will, and he forced a smile back and laced his hand through hers.

 "So… was she right that Chandler isn't expecting you?"

            Monica shrugged.  "I don't know.  Whatever, you're here, I want to spend time with _you_.  Want to get dinner soon?"

            "Sure… I know you want to spend time with me, but, I was just wondering what the situation was with you guys."

            "The situation is one of friendship," she said firmly.  "He might be expecting me at his first match, but only the way he's expecting Rachel."

            "I don't believe that for a second.  Not the way he was looking at you, the way he was…" Will trailed off.

            "The way he was _what_?"

            "The way he was kissing you, that night," Will finished quietly.  Monica watched him, unsure of whether he was truly hurt or just jealous.  He was studying a scuff mark on the toe of his sneaker intently, and looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to say something else.

            "Will?" she asked.  He looked up at her.  "I don't want you to worry about that," she said.  He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him quickly with a kiss.  The kiss intensified, and then she felt his lips on her neck and tangled her hands in his hair, and had a feeling they wouldn't be going anywhere for a little while.

            After Chandler's match, he grabbed dinner with the team, and saw Rachel eating with some of her hallmates across the cafeteria.  He excused himself from the victory party (everyone was on a high from their 5-0 win) and sat down at an empty seat next to her. 

            "Hey, champ," she greeted. 

            "Hey Rach, how's the pizza?"

            "Not bad tonight."

            He nodded, surveying the group she was with; Hailey, Daniel, Michael, Guy-With-Red-Hair who's name he always forgot, Catie and Luke.  Freshman halls were infamous for eating together and Rachel and Monica's definitely didn't break the stereotype.  Actually, the only times the girls weren't eating with their hall mates were the nights they were hanging out with Chandler and Ross.

            "Chandler, heard you guys won today," Daniel called. 

            "Yup- but it was only a scrimmage."

            "Good job anyway," said Hailey brightly.  Chandler grinned and thanked them- they were all good kids.  The only one out of the bunch he didn't like was Luke, and that was probably only because he hit on Monica the first weekend of school. 

            "So… where was Monica this afternoon?" he asked casually. 

            Rachel looked at him pointedly.  "You know where she was."

            "With Will.  Yeah.  I just thought she'd come watch for a while."

            "I think she wanted to but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.  Because of New Years and all."

            "What happened New Years?" Catie asked interestedly. 

            "Nothing," Chandler and Rachel said at the same time.  "Anyway, I better get back to the guys.  We're having a party at the tennis house downtown tonight- you guys are all welcome to come if you're not doing anything," Chandler offered.  The girls agreed quickly, and the guys tried to conceal their own excitement at the invitation; it really paid to have friends who knew upperclassmen.

            "See ya later Chandler," said Rachel.

            "Yeah- hey, make sure you invite Monica.  And Will, of course," Chandler said, with only minimal sarcasm.

            "Are we all going?" asked Hailey as he left.

            "Obviously," said Rachel.

            "You're sure you want to go?" Monica asked Will for the hundredth time.

            "Yes.  I want to get to know your friends and see how you NYU kids party," Will replied, walking up behind her at her dresser as she clasped a necklace.  He rested a hand on her shoulder.  "Besides, I know you want to go.  And where you want to go, I want to go."

            Monica smiled, but a part of her wished he would stop being so nice all the time.  It made it harder for her not to hate herself for having doubts, and for that initial moment every time they kissed when she wished he was someone else.  It lasted for less than a second, but it was undeniably there.

            "Well, how do I look?" she asked, turning to let him survey her. 

            "Beautiful, as always," he said, pulling her towards him.  "You wear more make-up now," he murmered into her hair.

            "Rachel's influence," she said.  "Too much?"

            "No.  No, you look older, that's all.  Older, but still breathtaking."  He kissed her and she squeezed her eyes closed and kissed him back.  She was going to get over Chandler if it killed her.

            Chandler sat on the sofa with some of his teammates, checking out the turnout of the party.  Not bad, almost fifty people had gathered, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.  Ross was hanging out with Rachel and Hailey and their friends in one of the corners, and he gave them a small wave.  Monica walked with Will behind her, clasping his hand reassuringly.

            "Hey, isn't that your little girlfriend?" asked Jake.

            "She's not my girlfriend," Chandler muttered.

            "I thought once you got rid of Evelyn Queen of All Things Bitchy you'd be all over that," Mike said, gazing at Monica appreciatively.  "Who's that she's with?"

            "Her boyfriend."

            "Ooohh, shot to the heart," Jake said apologetically, patting Chandler's back.

            "Shut up," he said as Monica approached, Will having gone into the kitchen with Ross to get them drinks.

            "Hey guys, congratulations," she said. 

            "Thanks," Chandler said.

            "Where the hell were you?  We thought we could count on you to head the fan club this year," Jake joked, poking her in the ribs.

            "I had a guest this afternoon, otherwise you know of course I would have been cheering the loudest," she said with a smile.

            "How is the guest?" Chandler asked.

            "He's fine," she mumbled.  "Sorry I missed it."

            "Whatever," he said.  She looked at him, hurt.  "It was just a scrimmage.  I figured you had something better to do."  Will came up and wrapped an arm around her waist.  "Or should I say _someone_?"  His friends snickered, and Monica glared at him. 

            "Chandler, you remember Will."  They shook hands.

            "How do you like NYU so far?" asked Chandler, forcing friendliness.

            "It's pretty cool," Will said.  "Heard you won today, congratulations.  Do you guys have a good tennis program?"

            "Not bad," Jake said.  "Where do you go?"

            "UConn," said Will.

            "He plays baseball," Monica said with a hint of pride.

            "Nice, I used to play little league," Chandler said.  Will missed his condescending tone, but Monica didn't. 

            "Hey, let's go back to Ross and Rachel," Monica said to Will, tugging at his shirt sleeve.

            "Okay.  Nice to meet you guys, and to see you again Chandler."

            "Back atcha," Chandler said, pointing his finger at him.  Monica turned to look at him over her shoulder and shook her head.  He pretended not to notice.

            Several hours and many, many beers later, Chandler watched Monica and Will dancing across the room and wondered if this was how Monica felt when he was with Evelyn.  Will was holding her tightly, and making her laugh.  He wasn't supposed to be the one who make her laugh.  Rachel came over and grabbed the bottle from his hands and took a drink.

            "Hey, whatchou doin?" he slurred.

            "I think you've had plenty," she said. 

            "Whatever," he mumbled.

            "Dance with me," she ordered.

            "N'way."

            "Come on.  I know _you_ won't remember being the creepy leering guy in the corner, but the rest of the people here will," she teased.  She lowered her voice.  "Please don't do this to her."

            "Do what?  She seems fine," he said bitterly.

            "You had your chance.  Let her be happy.  At least tonight."

            "I didn't have a chance.  Rach, I never got a chance," he said softly, his point effective even though some of his words ran together.

            Rachel sighed.  "One dance, Chandler."

            He looked at her through slightly unbalanced vision.  "Fine.  But I'm not a goodancer when I'm _sober_," he slurred.  She laughed. 

            Monica watched Rachel and Chandler dancing over Will's shoulder.  Or rather, she watched Rachel leading and Chandler stepping on her toes, but at least they were laughing.  Chandler was totally wasted, she could tell just by looking at him.  He met her gaze across the floor and waved weakly.  She waved back, for a moment her anger at his earlier behavior melting at his drunken smile.  He was cute when he was drunk.

            "You almost ready to call it a night?" Will's voice brought her back to reality and back to the realization of what a terrible person she was. 

            "Yeah.  Ready whenever you are," she said, and pressed her lips to his.  This whole kissing him whenever she felt guilty thing was becoming a reflex.  He led her to the door when the song ended, and she waved to Rachel and said bye to Ross on the way out, and left a party without saying goodbye to Chandler for the first time since she'd known him.


	8. Chapter 8

A.N.  Show of hands, who expected a new chapter this soon?  Yeah, didn't think so.  Me neither, but my parents are away and my sister is staying with me, but she just got her wisdom teeth out and apparently I'm not allowed to leave her alone in her Percocet-induced stupor, so her watching me has suddenly turned into me watching her in an ironic twist of events, hence, I am finding myself with some serious downtime.  Not so lucky for me, but lucky for you, because here is chapter eight!  I hope you enjoy it, and please review, you've been so awesome so far!!!  This one's dedicated to the hopefully speedy recovery of my sister Hope, as she is definitely becoming a pain in my ass.  Love to all!

-Maddy.

_If you think that I could be forgiven,_

_I wish you would…_

          The red light was blinking on the answering machine when Monica and Will walked into her room after the party.  An unsettled feeling in her stomach stemming from Chandler's attitude all evening led her to wait until Will was down the hall in the bathroom brushing his teeth before she hit play.

          "Mon, it's me.  Chandler.  Listen, you didn't say goodbye when you left, so that's what I'm doing.  Calling to say goodbye.  Goodbye!  Also, I'm calling to say- Hi Rachel!  No, not hanging up.  I am talking to Monica.  No!  Monica.  Hello, I wanted to tell you that I have had a few drinks tonight, but I don't want you to be mad, and I want you to know that I didn't like watching you dance with Will.  I hope that is what you felt when you saw me and Evelyn, not because I want you to be hurt but because it means you feel about me what I feel about you.  And that is that I love you.  I love you, Mon, and I'm sorry for everything.  Everything.  And I know this message isn't as eloquent as it could be, but I'm a little wasted right now.  Love you.  Goodnight."

          She held back tears and angrily jabbed the delete button.  "Your message has been erased."  Good. 

          Unfortunately, the answering machine message in her head was on a constant loop repeating the words "I love you, Mon."  And it wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair that he was doing this to her, and it wasn't fair that she was letting it affect her the way it was, and it wasn't fair that Will was down the hall brushing his teeth happily while she was listening to declarations of love from another guy.  Will was so kind, and he adored her and made her smile and made her feel safe; why wasn't that enough?

          He walked in and saw her sitting on the bed, and immediately asked what was wrong.

          "Nothing," she said.  "I'm just thinking."

          "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, sitting down next to him.

          She was actually thinking, at that moment, of New Years Eve, and the look on Will's face when she told him she didn't want to be with him.  And she was thinking about kissing Chandler, and she was thinking about how unfair Chandler was being, trying to take away the control she had when it was finally _her_ calling the shots.  And maybe it was one of those things, or maybe it was a combination of all of them, that made her kiss Will as hard as she could and take off his shirt.  He fumbled with hers, and then with her bra, and they laid down on her bed kissing furiously.

          She could tell that he was torn between being shocked at his good fortune and concerned with how out of character it was for her to be moving this quickly as she let her hand wander down to unzip his pants.  He removed his lips from her neck for a moment, and tried to look into her eyes, asking a silent question, but she squeezed her eyes closed again and grabbed his neck to pull his lips back to hers. 

          Across campus, Chandler collapsed onto his bed next to an already sleeping Ross and tried to stop the room from spinning.  When that failed, he tried to get the image of Monica and Will dancing from his mind, and when he was unsuccessful in that, tried to get the image of Monica and Will doing other things together out of his mind.  Tortured and sleepless, he reached for the cordless phone and dialed a number he never thought he would dial again. 

          A mostly naked Monica and Will were running out of foreplay options.  Usually level headed, Monica was doing her best to stop thinking, and for the past twenty minutes it had been working like a charm.  She had even been able to nod when Will had asked, "Are you sure about this?" five minutes earlier, and was convincing herself that she had meant it when it happened.

          He whispered her name in her ear as she let him trail passionate kisses from her shoulder down to her breasts.  She moaned in response, her body clearly not having the same reservations as her mind, when suddenly, in a flash, he was off of her and pulling on his clothes.

          "What?  What's the matter?" she asked, alarmed.

          He yanked at his pants silently, and she gathered the sheet around her exposed body.  "Will, you're scaring me," she said.

          "I'm scaring_ you_?"  he asked, sarcasm sounding foreign on his tongue.

          "Yes… we were just… do you not want to?" she asked, trying to read his eyes.

          He sighed heavily.  "Of course I _want_ to.  Look at you… how could anyone not want to?"

          She smiled.  "Then what-"

          "You really don't know what just happened, do you?" he interrupted her incredulously.

          "We were fooling around, things were getting heated… you got up…" she reminded him.

          "No, Monica.  You said his name," Will said, unable to mask the hurt in his eyes as anger any longer.

          She tried to process what he was telling her. 

          "I was kissing you, and you said his name.  I thought… I thought you were serious about wanting me, Monica.  I thought you said you didn't care about him."

          Tears she had been holding back for days flooded from her eyes as she apologized over and over.  "God, Will, I am so sorry.  I'm so sorry… I don't know what to say."

          "Don't say anything.  I'm leaving," he said, zipping his duffel bag.  She nodded and sniffled.

          "And don't cry.  You shouldn't get to cry," he said, anger returning. 

          "Will," she said, standing with the sheet around her as he headed for the door.  He jerked around.

          "What?" he asked, challenging her to try to find words to make it better, knowing that she wouldn't be able to.

          "I do care about you," she said quietly. 

          He melted a little, watching her grasp for words to comfort him with, trying to contain her tears.  She may have been less than honest, but she was still the same girl, the first girl he ever really cared about.  He took a step towards her and held one of her hands.

          "Let's forget about it," he said, swallowing his pride.

          "Forget about it?" she asked.  He caught the hopeful tone and extinguished it before he lost his strength.

          "No.  Not like that.  We can't be together.  I'd only be setting myself up again, and I can see that now.  But I still care about you, and I want you in my life in some capacity… and unless I leave right now, I don't see that happening."

          She nodded, a lone tear falling down her cheek.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered.  "I never wanted to hurt you.  Please believe me," she said.

          "I know," he told her, wiping the tear from her face.

          "Please stay until the morning.  Sleep in Rachel's bed.  It's too late to drive…" she begged.

          "No.  I have to leave right now, Monica," he said firmly.  "I don't blame you.  Honestly."  He kissed her gently on the lips.

          "Call me so I know you got back safely," she said, standing at the door as he was leaving.

          "I will.  Goodbye, Monica," he said, giving her one last half-hearted smile before walking out the door, and she knew that no matter what he said, out of her life.

          It rang three times, and her answering machine picked up.  "Hi, this is Evelyn, I'm not in right now…"  Chandler slammed the phone down, causing Ross to turn over in his sleep, and pulled the covers over his head, knowing that Evelyn being out was probably the best thing that could have happened to him that night.  It was time to just sleep it off.  He tossed and turned relentlessly, unaware that in a dorm room somewhere nearby, his best friend and the reason he couldn't sleep was curled up in her own bed, tearfully doing the same thing.__

**Okay well that's complication #2, done!  What do you think?  Review please!!  Thanks, have a lovely day.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.****  Annndddd you're beyond shocked!!   I'm so diligent right now!  I think that I dug myself into a major whole with bringing Will into everything, because no matter what I did, he always came out as such a nice guy, and I couldn't figure out how to get out of the mess that I made for myself!  But now that I did it, in a hopefully realistic and believable way, I'm excited about the rest of this story (a few more chapters I think.)  **

**Oh and GUESS WHAT???  My sister (not the tooth one, that's Hope, but this is Olivia) had her baby yesterday morning!!!  I have a niece!  Her name is Avery Victoria and she's about the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life and I love her so much already!  Haha.  So things are a little crazy here, since all my siblings are home (I'm the baby and used to being the only one around, hehe) but everyone's passed out from exhaustion and I'm still up so I figured I'd get this written and posted!  Hope everyone else is having an equally wonderful weekend!  Read and review!  **

**Oh and sorry about how freakin' long this AN is and I know you probably don't care but I seem to have an extreme case of verbal diarrhea right now!  So forgive me ****J******

**Xoxoxoxo****,**

**Maddy******

_…reason to believe…_

          Monica spent the rest of the weekend shut up in her room, avoiding human contact at all costs.  Okay, avoiding Chandler, and avoiding everyone else by extension.  Rachel was in and out, bringing her soup (even though she wasn't sick), begging her to talk (even though she didn't want to), and threatening to call her mother (even though they both knew she'd never.)  When her alarm went off Monday morning, Rachel sat at the edge of her bed and made sure she went to class, telling her that, "If you aren't going to tell me what happened I can't support this vegetable lifestyle of yours anymore."

          She made it through two classes and lunch without seeing her brother or Chandler, and was about to sigh in relief when she turned the corner to her dorm and saw him sitting outside on the steps.  She stopped involuntarily, stared at him for a moment, then continued towards the stairs.

          "Hey," he stood.

          "Hi," she said. 

          "I called.  Like four times," he said, unsuccessfully trying to maintain eye contact.

          "Sorry.  I didn't get the messages."  She tried to maneuver past him, but he grabbed her elbow.

          "Bullshit.  If you're going to avoid me you can at least tell me why."

          She checked her watch.  "Now's not really a great time for me Chandler," she said.

          "So when would be a better time?  Is he still here, is that it?" he asked bitterly.

          She let out a jagged breath.  "No," she said quietly.  "He left."

          "Did you have a nice weekend?" he asked, purposely provoking her.

          "No, not really," she said evenly.  "Listen I really have to go."

          She pushed past him and reached for the door.

          "Can I just ask you one thing?" he asked.  She paused, but didn't turn back.  "Did you sleep with him?" he continued.

          She whipped around and stared at him, her blue eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn't place.

          "No," she said after a few moments.

          "No, I can't ask you that, or no, you didn't sleep with him?" He knew he was pushing his luck, but he had to know.

          "Both," she muttered, staring at her feet.

          He let out a sigh of relief.  "Okay," he breathed.  "Okay."

          "Okay _what_?" she asked, with a ferocity he was unaccustomed to.  He took a step back.

          "No, really.  What's _okay_ about this?  Is it okay that you were unforgivably rude to me _and_ to someone I care about Friday night?  Is it okay that I came home to a drunken message that you left declaring your love to me while my boyfriend brushes his teeth down the hall?  Is it okay that I walk back from class to be ambushed by you, asking personal questions that are as far as I can tell absolutely _none_ of your business?" She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.  "Which part is okay, Chandler?  Because I sure as hell don't know anymore."

          He took a deep breath.  "As far as being rude to you goes, I apologized for that, even if it _was_ on a drunken message that apparently is number two on the list of reasons you're pissed off at me.  And this is not an ambush.  This is the only way I could see you because you're not returning my calls.  This is just me needing to see you," he finished.  She sighed, dropped her bag and her keys, and sat down on the steps.  He followed and sat down beside her.

          "What is this, Chandler?  Everything's… everything's such a mess."  He could hear the tears before he could see them, and he tentatively rested an arm around her shoulders.

          "Hey… you want to tell me what's really bothering you?" he spoke after a few moments.

          She took a deep breath.  "Will and I broke up."

          "When?" he said, unable to contain his surprise.

          "Friday night," she rested her chin in her hands.

          "Why?" There was only one answer he wanted to hear.

          She looked at him.  "I don't want to tell you," she said.

          "Why not?"

          "First of all, it's sort of embarrassing.  And second…" she trailed off.

          "What?"

          "Second, it might… give you the wrong idea."

          "The wrong idea about what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

          "Okay," she relented.  "Remember what you asked me before?  About whether we… you know?"

          "Yeah…"

          "Well, we didn't.  But… we almost did."

          He recoiled, and let his mouth set in a firm line as he felt anger, bitterness, and jealousy course through his veins.  He pushed it as far from his mind as he could, and urged her to continue.

          "I don't know what got into me, Chandler, really… it was just too much to think about.  Seeing you and Will together, coming home to that message… and then Will, being everything he should be and it not being… not being enough, somehow."

          "Did he pressure you?" he asked defensively.

          She snorted.  "Hardly.  He'd never.  It was me, and it was totally unlike me, but I just… I just lost it, I guess.  I… I almost did it, and I would have, but-"

          He tensed again at "I would have," the words causing him more pain than he would have thought possible. 

          "Are you okay?  You wanted me to tell you," she reminded him.  He nodded.

          "I'm fine.  Continue."

          "Okay.  Well, I would have.  I've spent the past two days trying to convince myself that I would have stopped it, that I wouldn't have gone through with it because I knew it wasn't the right time, but the truth is that I know I would have.  I was going to.  But… then something happened, and he stopped it.  Chandler," she said.  "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

          His eyes snapped to meet hers, finally hearing something he wanted to hear.

          "You couldn't?"

          She shook her head.  "And I guess I must have said your name-"

          "You said my name?!" he asked, his voice gleeful until she glared at him.  "I mean, you said my name?"

          "I guess," she mumbled.  "Because he jumped up and he yelled and then I cried and then we made up and then we broke up, and then he left.  That's the abridged version."

          "Well… I can't say I'm sorry," he said.  He reached for her hand hesitantly.  "I mean, I'm sorry if you're sorry, and I'm sorry if you got hurt, you know-"

          "Chandler?  Stop," she said.  He nodded gratefully.  "I know what you mean."

          They sat there for a few minutes, holding hands lightly, moving a little whenever a resident of the building would need to get in the door. 

          "Mon?  What do you think it meant?  You saying my name?" he ventured after a while.

          "That's what I've been trying to figure out for the last forty eight hours."

          "And have you come to any conclusions?" he asked hopefully.

          She shook her head, then shrugged.  "I wanted it to be you," she whispered, looking down at their entwined hands.  With the index finger of the hand she wasn't holding, he gently raised her chin until she was looking at him.  Their faces inches apart, he leaned a little closer.

          "I'm going to kiss you," he said, echoing the words almost verbatim that he spoke before their kiss a month ago, although it felt like longer to both.

           "No," she said softly, placing a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

          "I'm going to kiss you," he repeated.  He stared into her eyes, blue meeting blue, waiting for her to object again.

          "Okay.  One kiss," she said, smiling a little.  He closed the distance between them instantly, and their lips met again, it feeling every bit as right as it had on New Years Eve.  He kissed her gently, reaching up to play with her hair, and she responded by kissing him back.  When the kiss became a little more passionate, she pulled back with a little laugh. 

          "Okay, okay," she said.  "That's enough."

          She stood to get up, and he handed her her bag, and planted one more sweet kiss on her lips.  She unlocked the door and turned over her shoulder to see him grinning widely behind her.

          "That was two kisses," she said accusingly.

          "Care to make it three?"

          "Have a good afternoon, Chandler."

          "See you and Rachel at dinner?  Six?" he asked.

          "Sure," she said, flashing him another smile before hurrying through the door and up the three flights of stairs to her room.   He stood in the doorway and watched her, dark hair flying behind her, and couldn't wipe the smile from his face.  He didn't know what it meant, but something was happening.  Something was finally happening.

          "You're in a substantially better mood," Rachel noted as they walked across the campus to the cafeteria to meet Ross and Chandler.

          Monica shrugged.  "Just got over myself, I guess."

          "Are you ever going to tell me what happened Friday night?"

          "Will and I almost…" she trailed off, looking at Rachel knowingly.

          Rachel gasped, and hit her friend lightly.  "You didn't!"

          "No, we didn't.  I said we _almost_ did."

          "I can't believe it, Monica, you dated the guy for like six months and wouldn't even go past _second_…"

          "Have we reverted back to bases?" Monica said, rolling her eyes.

          "I just can't believe you almost… I mean, I thought you weren't ready."

          "I wasn't.  Listen, can we stop talking about this now?  I really don't want to share this information with my _brother_."

          "Okay.  But later, right?" Rachel pressed, the gossip queen in her getting the best of her.

          "Yeah, later," Monica said as they approached the boys.

          "Hey guys," said Rachel.

          "Hey," Ross said, greeting his sister with a kiss on the cheek.  "Haven't seen you for a few days."

          "Busy," she lied.  Ross and Rachel walked a little ahead of them to secure "their table," and Chandler tugged on Monica's jacket.  She turned and looked at him expectantly, suppressing a grin.

          "Hello," he said, pecking her quickly on the lips.  Her hand flew to where he had kissed her and she looked at him warningly, but smiling. 

          "Hello," she replied.

          "That was three," he whispered in her ear, pulling her chair out for her.  She giggled, and looked up to see Rachel gaping at her.

          "What?" she asked defensively.

          "What's this?" Rachel asked, gesturing between Monica and Chandler.

          "Nothing," they both said at the same time.  Ross looked at them suspiciously.

          "I'm starved," Monica said, getting up to get a tray.

          "Me too," said Chandler, taking her lead.

          "Something's up," Rachel said decidedly.  Ross shrugged, no longer interested, and followed his friends, just glad that they were finally all hanging out again and that it seemed that things were at least somewhat back to normal.

**It was a little shorter but it was a LOT quicker, so take what you can get ladies and gentlemen.  ****J****  Hope you liked it!  We're so close, can't you just taste it??? Leave me a review!!!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N.****  Back!  Not as good as 2 updates in one week, but definitely not bad.  I've had computer trouble, plus relatives, friends, neighbors, and people I've never met in my life floating through my house visiting baby Avery!  (My oldest sister and brother-in-law, and MY NIECE ****J****- live down the street.)  Thank you all so much for the great reviews and the congratulations… can you tell I'm still a little excited?  Anyway sorry I'll stop rambling… without further ado, enjoy chapter 10!  And school's out next week- so hopefully more frequent updates?  Or less frequent, depending on which job I take!  Love ya!**

**Maddy****.******

_I can't remember all the times I've tried to tell myself…_

          Chandler had walked Monica back from her 2:00 Art History class, and he followed her up the stairs to her room laughing as she tried to manage the steps while flipping intently over her notebook, unable to wait to see if she'd answered a question right on the test she had just taken.

          She almost tripped and he steadied her.  "Hey, don't walk and read, it's a hazard for those behind you," he teased.

          She gave him a half smile but was obviously preoccupied.  She continued to search for the answer as she fumbled with the key in the door, and he grabbed her hand.

          "Hey, what's the big deal?  It's just one question," he asked, trying unsuccessfully to get her to give it up.

          "It's just one question I want to make sure I answered right," she said absently.  "You're right, it's not a big deal, I'm just curious."

          He rolled his eyes.  "Curious?  You're obsessive."

          She gasped, and looked at him.  "Take that back!"

          "Got your attention," he smirked.

          "I'm not _obsessive_, I'm _thorough_… there's a difference," she said defensively, her eyes already back on her notes.  He gently took the books from her hands and dropped them on the floor.

          "Hey…" she protested, until he lifted her chin with his index finger.  Her heart rate quickened slightly and she did a quick scan of her ever-nosy hall to make sure they didn't have an audience as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, pushing her against the door.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.  He felt her lips curl into a smile as he pulled away and opened his eyes, resting his forehead against hers.

          "Seventeen," she said breathlessly, continuing the kiss-counting game that had begun four days ago.

          "I think that one should count twice," he said smiling.

          "No cheating, mister.  Only counts once."

          He pressed a finger to her cheekbone and retrieved a stray eyelash, holding it out in front of her.  "Make a wish," he said.

          She closed her eyes quickly and blew the eyelash from his finger.

          "What'd you wish for?" he asked impishly.

          "Not telling," she replied with a grin over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and kicked the forgotten notebook into the room ahead of her.

          "Maybe because it had something to do with me and number eighteen?" he teased.

          "Like I'd waste a wish on that!"

          "You mean because you know it's already coming?" he said, stepping into the doorway and giving her a little goodbye peck on the lips, which turned into more, as it always seemed to with them.  She put a hand on his chest and separated them finally.

          "Yup," she said, in answer to his previous question.

          "See you later for dinner?"

          "You got it."

          "Bye," he said in that cute, almost shy way that made her stomach go into acrobatic mode every time.

          "See ya," she said, giving him a small wave before shutting the door.

          "So you guys are just kissing at random intervals?" Rachel clarified later in their room.

          Monica considered this analysis.  "Pretty much."

          "And you, Monica Geller, are okay with that?"

          She shrugged.  "I am.  I don't know, maybe it's because things with Will moved so fast and turned into such a train wreck.  It's sort of a relief to just take it as it comes.  Does that make any sense?"

          "That's how I handle _all_ my relationships," Rachel said assuringly. 

          "I was fine with it until you pointed that out," Monica teased.

          "Shut up.  Hey, when are you gonna tell Ross?"

          "Well… I figure it's really not my responsibility.  I mean, Ross and I don't exactly go around telling each other who we're making out with.  Chandler should be the one who talks to him if he wants to… guys talk about that stuff, right?"

          "That's convenient logic, for you.  You think he will?"

          "If he does I'll know he's serious.  If he doesn't, I'll know its all attraction."

          "Mon, the guy's already told you he loves you."

          "Yeah, once after he broke up with his girlfriend- rebound, not good.  And once when he was completely intoxicated- lowered inhibitions, _never_ good."

          "You really believe that?"

          Monica sighed.  "I don't know what I believe."

          "So which do you want?  Do you want him to be serious, or do you want him to just keep it fun?"

          "I'd take him either way, I guess."

          "Yeah, but which do you _want_?" Rachel pressed.

          "I honestly don't know what I want.  But I think I'll know when I hear it."

          Rachel smiled.  "Well, be careful.  You don't need to be breaking any _more_ hearts this week."

          Monica glared at her sarcastically.  "Shut up."

          Chandler circled his small dorm room for the eightieth time, waiting for Ross to get back from science club.  He knocked over another fake fossil, and carelessly placed it back on Ross's desk, once again marveling at the fact that someone he got along with so well was such an enormous geek.  At dinner that night, with the girls, Chandler had realized something.  He wasn't even sure the exact moment it dawned on him; he just knew that, as he walked out of the student center, he didn't want to be walking in a different direction than her.  And he had known, right then, that he didn't ever want to be walking away from her, from now on- he only wanted to walk towards her.  And that meant telling her brother.

          Ross came into the room, oblivious to his friend's nervous chatter, and unloaded his backpack for what looked like a long night of studying.

          "Hey, before you start anything, can I talk to you for a second?"

          "Sure," said Ross, turning to face his friend.  "Everything okay with your mom?"

          "What?  Oh, yeah, fine.  It's not about family," said Chandler.  "Well… it's not about _my_ family," he corrected himself.

          Ross looked confused.  "Okay…"

          "See, the thing is… I've been having certain feelings lately.  For Monica," he said, deciding it was best to just get it all out in the open and deal with the reaction rather than draw it out in preparation.

          Ross's face flashed from confusion to understanding to discomfort in a matter of seconds.  "Moni- my, my, uh, my sister?"

          Chandler just nodded.  "I know, it's a weird thing to have to tell you… but I thought I should.  Because when it was just a crush, there was no point in talking to you about it.  I mean, I had Evelyn, and she was your sister, and there were lines-"

          "There's not lines anymore?"

          Chandler ignored his remark.  "And then, after the kissing thing on New Years-"

          "What?" Ross screeched. 

          "Oh, right, I never told you that," Chandler said sheepishly.  "Well… we got back to school and she had a boyfriend and that was even more reason not to discuss it with you.  But then, they broke up, and I can't stop thinking about her Ross, and I can't stop wanting to be around her and dreaming about her and-"

          Chandler was cut off by Ross waving his hands in front of his face.  "All right, all right, I get it, you like her!"

          Chandler shook his head.  "No, Ross, you don't get it.  I don't like your sister."  Ross looked at him, not understanding.  "I love her."

          "You _love_ Monica?  As in, you're in love with her?" Ross asked incredulously.

          Chandler nodded.

          "Have you told her?"

          "Twice.  But both were really… screwed up ways of telling her.  I was just my idiotic self, but I want to fix that.  But not before I talked to you."

          "So, what is this… are you asking my blessing?"

          He shook his head no.  "No, Ross.  I'm doing it with or without your blessing.  I value our friendship above almost anything else in my life, and I think you know that… but this is something I have to do.  I'm telling you because I'd like your support, but if I can't have that, then I'd just like you to know before you find out some other way," he said, being brutally honest.  Ross paused, and took in his words.  After what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

          "I won't lie and say it doesn't creep me out," Ross said.  "I mean, she's my little sister… but if you've already made your decision, and if you really love her, I'd never stand in the way of that, man."

          "Really?" Chandler asked.

          "Yeah.  Just… don't kiss around me yet, okay?"

          Chandler grinned.  "You got it."

          The next night, Chandler called Monica and asked if she wanted to take a walk with him.

          "A walk?" she asked dubiously.  "Isn't it freezing?"

          "Bundle up," he urged.  "It's a beautiful night.  You can almost make out a couple of stars through the smog," he joked.

          She smiled, and agreed.  They walked around the campus for a while, then ended up across town in Central Park.  She looked up briefly, trying to see if she could in fact pick out a star or two from the dark sky that blanketed the city. 

          "There's one," she said, pointing with one hand and casually wrapping the other around his.  He didn't look where she was pointing, but instead looked down at their entwined fingers, sure that nothing had ever looked so perfect before in his life.

          "Hey Mon?" he asked, rubbing her hand gently with his thumb.

          "Hmm?"

          "I need to tell you something."

          She looked at him.  "You sound kinda serious."

          "I am kinda serious," he said earnestly.  He dropped her hand, ran his own through his hair nervously, then picked up her hand again and held it between both of his.

          "I've done a lot of stupid things this year.  I've messed up, and made mistakes, and then messed up some more.  And it's not even March," he said, and she laughed softly.  He smiled too, then took a deep breath.  "But I'm done screwing up.  I'm sorry for any pain I've caused you, any tear you've cried because of something I've done or not done, but I wouldn't take any of it back, because it's brought us here.  To this moment, in Central Park, on a night when there are three stars shining above us, and you were right, it _is_ freezing, and-"

          "Chandler," she said, getting him back on track.

          "Right.  Well, everything's brought us here.  And I've said it before, two times before, actually, but I want it to mean something this time.  I want it to mean something because you believe me.  I love you.  I'm totally, completely, head over heels, insanely, undeniably, forever-kind-of-love in love with you," he said.

          She looked at him through tear glazed eyes and kept him waiting for a few moments, unsure of how to tell him how deeply his words had touched her.  She finally reached up and hugged him fiercely, squeezing him so tight it took him by surprise until he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, closing his eyes and waiting for her to speak.

          "That's exactly how I wanted you to say it," she whispered into his ear happily.  They held each other for a few more moments, and then she pulled back slightly to look at him.

          "I love you too," she said.  "God, I do, I love you so much," she said, capturing his lips with hers in a sweet kiss.

          "Time to go home, time to go home," an old man cackled at them eerily from a nearby bench.  They looked at each other.

          "Well, nothing says 'I love you' like a crazy homeless man," Chandler said sarcastically.  She laughed, took his hand, and began heading out of the park and back home.

          "It just wouldn't have been us if we weren't interrupted by some weird guy with a tinfoil hat," she agreed.

**TBC???****  I feel that there's more to this story, but I kind of like the way this chapter ended- sweet and quirky, just like them, haha.  Review if you want to read more, but I think I'll probably write it anyway, just because I think there's more to tell… I hope you liked it!  Mwah!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N.****  Okay, so this chapter is PURE C&M mush.  You all deserve it after staying with me through the angst and obstacles of 10 chapters!  And I needed to write it after that, too!  Okay, little warning of adult content here- nothing too bad, but I forget the rating of this story so, children, you've been warned.  Also, I think we're looking at 2 or 3 more chapters.  So thank you SO much for being so amazing (I can't believe I've broken 220 reviews in 10 chapters, that is such a great thing!) and I'm glad you're still enjoying this.  Love you all!**

**Maddy****.******

As usual, they had to turn the lights on for Chandler to finish his match, after all the other players had come off and the respective coaches had penciled in either a W or an L on their scoring sheet.  His coach, a middle-aged NYU alum himself, considered Chandler Bing one of his favorite players; a smart kid, enthusiastic, and diligent in practice.  However, that didn't make him any less frustrated at Chandler's uncanny insistence at drawing any match he played, even those he should easily win, to the full three sets.  Second singles was always the last position on the court, never fail.

            That Thursday evening, the usual audience huddled on the bleachers in front of the marathon match on court two; his teammates, the other team and their coach, a few over-zealous parents, and Monica Geller.  The other tennis-fan students, even Chandler's closest friends, had checked out nearly an hour earlier, the smells of dinner wafting them home for an evening of food and study.  But the coach had to smile at the Geller girl's unwavering support of his team; she had barely missed a match all year, cheered at key moments and knew when Chandler needed encouragement and when he needed silence.  She was a pretty little thing, and all the guys on the team took turns flirting with her while Chandler was playing; but seldom could one of them tear her attention away from the court long enough to have a conversation.  She made it perfectly clear who she was there to see.

            Monica forced herself to sit on her hands, a new defense strategy against the horrible nail biting habit she had developed as a result of Chandler's dramatic match endings.  She watched as he ran in for the approach shot, executed it with a perfect angle into the far left corner, and slammed away the weak overhead that was returned.  The crowd cheered, and Chandler grinned (his favorite part) and stayed at the net as his opponent jogged up to shake his hand.   NYU, 4, Colgate 1.  The team was undefeated.

            Chandler joined his teammates for a meeting, and a stern but smiling lecture from his coach on knocking off the grandstanding and how he should have won the match in straight sets instead of dragging it on so long, and then ran over to Monica and enveloped her in a bear hug, fully aware of the sweat drenching his uniform.

            "Ew!" she exclaimed, trying to wiggle from his firm grasp.  "You're sweating, get off!"

            "_That's_ my congratulations?" he asked incredulously.  "Almost a three hour match, and you'd begrudge me a hug?"

            "Hey, I stayed for the entire three hours.  If anything, you owe me dinner."

            He laughed, and kissed her on the nose.  "Anything for my super-fan."

            "Bing!  Team dinner at the house!" yelled Harper, one of the doubles players.

            "I've got plans," he shouted back, lifting up Monica's hand. 

            The team made the required cat calls and Monica laughed good-naturedly as Chandler led her back towards their dorms. 

            "You could have gone, I really wouldn't mind," she said honestly, reaching up to brush a lock of damp hair from his forehead.

            "I don't want to," he replied.  "I want to take you out to dinner."

            "Victory dinner," she corrected.  "You were amazing."

            He kicked a stray pebble.  "Coach didn't think so.  Took too long again."

            She shook her head.  "You know he's just hard on you because he likes you so much."

            "He thinks I drag it out on purpose, because I like the attention, but it's not like that, Mon, I swear- I don't know what it is but I get to a point where I just _can't _finish it off when I should, I can't…" he trailed off, kicking another stone in frustration.  She nodded.  After almost three months of dating, she had become an expert at reading his moods and how to handle them.  Reassuring him of his talent right now would only frustrate him further.  They walked on in silence for a few moments more, and he reached out and squeezed her hand.

            "Thanks," he said quietly.

            "What for?"

            "For always being there and knowing what to say and what not to say."

            She smiled.  "You're welcome."

            It was a warm night, early May just before finals, so Chandler and Monica decided to order in Chinese and have a picnic on the quad. 

            "You have a ton of work this weekend?" he asked, picking through a carton for broccoli and dropping it in hers, as she rooted through another and deposited shrimp in his.

            "Yeah.  Finals and all," she said, shuddering as she gave him the last of the shrimp.  "I can't believe you like this.  It has the _weirdest_ texture."

            "You and your textures," he teased good-naturedly.  "I can't believe you like broccoli, I mean, who _likes_ broccoli?  Not just tolerates it, or eats it for nutritional purposes, but actively _enjoys_ it?"

            "At least you love what I hate and I love what you hate," she concluded, leaning back on her side.

            "So you're not gonna be too busy on Sunday, are you?" he asked after a few minutes of small talk.

            "Sunday?  Why, what's Sunday?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, holding out just long enough for him to get properly annoyed before breaking into laughter.

            "Very funny," he said dryly.

            "I totally got you," she said, mimicking his expression.

            "Can you believe it's been three months?" he asked.

            "Nope," she said.  "I can't believe this year's almost over.  It went so fast."

            "Parts of it did," he agreed.

            Her face fell a little, and she twisted noodles around her chopsticks. 

            "I can't believe I'm leaving in a week, and you're staying here."

            "Hey, come on, it could be worse.  It's barely a two hour drive," he consoled, rubbing her bare shoulder.

            "I know, but still.  You'll be here, living with your mom in some penthouse apartment, interning at some prestigious company, going to clubs because you'll be 21 and meeting girls and having them fall instantly in love with you, and I'll be in Long Island with Ross and my parents, working at the same summer camp I've been working at since I was fifteen," she complained.

            "Okay, so many things wrong with what you just said.  First of all, penthouse?  My mom hasn't even given me a definite answer on whether she'll be renting a place this summer, so she could just as easily be in Los Angeles or London or _Tokyo_, which would put me right back into NYU housing with some weird stranger for a roommate.  And I'll be too tired from working hellish hours at a grunt level position, filling coffee mugs and stapelers for some hot-shot lawyer or something, to be clubbing at night, not to mention I'll be too heartsick for you to be meeting girls, who most definitely will _not_ be falling in love with me, as I will be wearing a sandwich board with your picture on it.  See, there we go, I did it.  You're smiling."

            "It's not funny, I'm sad."

            "I'm sad too, babe, but we'll visit and before you know it we'll be back at school.  I promise, okay?"

            She nodded slowly.  "Okay," she whispered, leaning over and kissing him softly.  "I love you a lot, you know?"

            "I know!" he imitated her playfully.

            Two nights later Chandler and Monica approached the door to her building , after an expensive dinner for which Chandler had been saving for weeks, and a nearly perfect anniversary evening.  She tugged at the thin straps of her summer dress and turned to face him, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

            "Thank you for a perfect night," she said, standing on tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips.

            "_Almost_ perfect," he corrected, pointing at the still-drying wet spot on the skirt of Monica's dress where a novice waiter had poured water.

            She shook her head.  "Perfect," she stated again.

            He smiled, and took in her appearance for the millionth time that night.  Her pale blue dress made the blue of her eyes look darker and more intense, and the early summer weather they'd been having had brought out more freckles on her nose and chest and shoulders.  A few strands of hair had flown loose from the barrette and dangled messily in front of her face.  He gently brushed them behind her ear.

            "You are so beautiful," he said quietly.  "I can't believe I've been with you for three months.  I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

            She smiled wider, leaning in for another kiss.  His tongue entered her mouth hesitantly at first; he was always hesitant at first; and she reciprocated, their arms winding around one another.  They broke apart several minutes later, breathless, and she asked the question she'd been wrestling with whether or not to ask for days.

            "You wanna come up?"

            He twisted her hair between his fingers.  "Yes," he answered without missing a beat.  "But I don't think Rachel will be too excited about the idea."

            "She's still home for the weekend, studying.  She won't be back until tomorrow."

            Chandler grinned, and led the way upstairs, expecting nothing more than the usual make-out groping session they had been enjoying for the past several months when one of their roommates was out of the room.  Monica followed slightly more anxious, because she knew something he didn't.  She knew that she wanted it to be tonight.

            They discarded of Chandler's jacket quickly and sat down on her bed, and he smiled sweetly before moving in and kissing her passionately.  Ten minutes later, his tie was on the ground and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and she was pinned underneath him, kissing his neck and chest and running her fingers through his hair. 

            "Mon… Mon," he said hoarsely, lifting himself off of her slightly and catching his breath.  She laid her head back and looked at him questioningly.

            "What?" she asked.

            "Nothing, I just need a minute."

            "What for?"

            "Because if I don't stop for a minute right now, I may not be able to stop later," he told her with a sly smile, pecking her lips quickly.

            She shrugged, surprised at how calm her voice managed to come out.  "So who's asking you to stop?"

            He looked at her, trying to guage the meaning of her words.  "You mean, like, _not_ stop?" he stuttered.

            She nodded, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  "Is that okay?" she asked, and a look of pure innocence flashed in her blue eyes, and he buried his head in her neck, kissing her, then laid beside her on her pillow.

            "Of course that's okay," he whispered.  "I don't want you to rush anything, is all.  I know you haven't…" he trailed off.

            She looked down at her hands, then back into his eyes.  "I've been thinking about this," she whispered back.  "And… well, I'm leaving in a few days…"

            He shook his head.  "Mon, facing a few months apart is not the reason to do this.  I don't want to just 'get it over with'… I want you to be ready."

            "I am ready," she insisted.  "I love you.  The last few times we've fooled around… God, Chandler, I've had to _force_ myself away from you."

            He smiled wryly.  "I certainly understand that feeling."

            "And I know you love me too," she continued.  "And I love how you want to make sure this is right for me, it just makes me love you more… and it just makes me want this more," she finished, nibbling his ear.

            "I can't believe I get to be your first," he said incredulously, kissing her slowly and moving back on top of her.  She laced her fingers through his and rested their hands  either side of her head as he peppered her face and neck with kisses.

            "You're so beautiful," she said softly, taking their hands up so she could run a finger along his cheek.

            "God, I love you, Monica," he told her, covering her mouth with his, the last coherent words they spoke for a long time.

**Yeahhh****… so the whole quoting Long December lyrics at the beginning of every chapter was a cute idea, but I didn't expect this series to be this long, so… I've run out of applicable quotes.  To be honest, the last few were stretching it at times, haha.  So I think instead of repeating them, I'll just wait until the last chapter and include the whole song.  So in case any of you were wondering ****J  Review!  Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N.****  Here's chapter 12 ****J**** Hope you guys are all having a great summer so far, and that you're enjoying weather as beautiful as I am (which, I'm afraid, is my only excuse for the amount of time it's taken for me to write this.)  It's a little short, but I needed to wrap up their year and move to the rest of the story.  Hope you like it!**

**Maddy****.**

There are moments in life where you are faced with an unfamiliar feeling, one that you know in your heart, in your very bones, will in time become as natural to you as breathing.  You savor these moments, because although the idea of this feeling becoming familiar excites you, you can't help reveling in the newness of it, and the selfish desire to keep the moment fresh, pure, yours.

For Monica, one of those moments was waking up in Chandler's embrace.  She'd never slept with a guy before, literally as well as sexually, and it was strange, the closeness of it, the crushing of her small arms with his strong ones, and the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.  She was awake for several minutes, but didn't open her eyes until she felt him stir.

His right arm loosened around her waist slightly, then held her tighter, and she twisted in his grasp to rest her chin on his shoulder and study his face, his eyes blinking and adjusting to the sunlight streaming in through the open window. 

"Morning," he said in a raspy voice that sounded foreign to her, his morning voice that she'd never heard before.  She smiled a little.

          "I've dreamed this," was her reply. 

          "Waking up with me?"

          "Yeah.  It's weird, but I've dreamed this more than I've dreamed about what comes before it."

          He grinned.  "Speaking of which… you still okay?"

          She nodded.  "Thank you."

          "Thank _me_?" he asked incredulously. 

          "For being so great and… gentle… and for being all the things you are."

          He kissed her on the nose.  "Thank you for being all the things you are, too.  Are you… I mean, does it hurt?"

          She shook her head.  "Not anymore."

          "Good."

          "I hate to end this… I mean, really, really hate to… but, Rachel should be home any minute," she said reluctantly.  He nodded and kissed her again, softly.

          "I just thought of something," he said, wincing.

          "Hm?" she asked, kissing his cheek, then his neck and shoulder.

          "I have to go home now and see your brother, with whom I share a room, and who knows I didn't come home last night, and who can probably deduce what that means."

          She grimaced.  "Think you can avoid him for the next four days?  I mean, then its summer, and you can find a new roommate for next year."

          He laughed.  "Ugh, time to face the music."  He got out of bed, dressing in his clothes from the night before, and she pulled on jeans and a shirt and walked him downstairs to the door.

          "Bye," she said.  "I can't stop smiling.  You did this to me," she accused.

          "I have no problem taking credit for something as beautiful as your smile."  They kissed and he tugged on her ear playfully when they parted.

          "Bye babe.  Good luck with your final this morning," he said.

          "Thanks.  You too, call me when you're done."

          And, as luck (or lack thereof) would have it, they exchanged a final kiss at the exact moment Rachel turned the corner from the parking lot, suitcase in hand, and stood gaping as Chandler walked away.  She practically sprinted to her friend, still standing at the door, and caught her by the elbow.

          "Hi!" Monica exclaimed. 

          "Uh, _hi!_" Rachel said, slapping her shoulder.

          "What's up?"

          "What's up?  Chandler just left our room, that's what's up!"

          "Oh.  You saw that, huh?" Monica asked sheepishly.

          "Yes!  Does that mean…?" Monica nodded.  "And you…?"

          "Yes," she said, suppressing a grin. 

          "Okay, when's your final?"

          "Eleven thirty."

          "That gives you an hour to go upstairs with me and tell me every single detail of last night and this morning.  Come on!" Rachel shouted, already halfway up the stairs.  Monica laughed and followed her friend quickly.

          Chandler entered the room he shared with Ross cautiously, and found him sitting at his desk, obviously engaged in some last minute cramming.  Ross looked up briefly when he walked in and mumbled hello in greeting. 

          "Hey Ross," Chandler said nervously, kicking off his shoes and changing into his robe to go take a shower.  "Still studying?"

          "Last test of the year," Ross nodded.

          "I'm gonna go jump in the shower," said Chandler.

          "Okay."

          He stopped halfway to the door and turned to Ross again.  "Are we not going to talk about this?"

          "Talk about what?  To the best of my knowledge you obviously got in late last night, were careful not to disturb me by changing out of your clothes, woke up very early this morning and ran some errands, arriving back now."

          Chandler nodded quickly.  "That does sound accurate."

          "Good," Ross said.  He sighed.  "Listen, Chandler, I don't wanna hate you.  So from now on you're just a considerately quiet roommate who wakes up unusually early.  Okay?"

          "Okay," he said. 

          Ross nodded, and looked back at his work, and Chandler headed down the hall to the shower.  His friendship with Ross seemed to be in tact, he had just spent the night with the girl he was completely in love with, and he only had one test standing in between him and four months of summer.  Life was looking up.

          Four days later, Ross and Monica's belongings were stacked in the trunk, tied to the top of the car and filling the backseat.  Rachel's dad had come to pick her up from school, renting a van to accommodate her many possessions, and she had left with him several hours ago.  Ross had run across campus to say goodbye to Carol, who he had been just on the verge of reuniting with, and Chandler was helping Monica shove the last of her stuff in the car.

          "I can't believe you guys managed to fit everything," Chandler marveled.

          Monica nodded.  "Ross barely had anything except books and dinosaur crap, and most of my stuff's in my Grandma's guest room."  Monica and Ross's grandmother had a two bedroom apartment in the Village, and had generously offered to house some of their larger possessions for the summer. 

          "Nothing like free storage," Chandler said, trying to keep the conversation light.  His weak attempt at humor did nothing to wipe the frown off his girlfriend's face.

          "Hey," he said gently, closing the gap between them with two steps.  "Don't be sad.  You promised."

          She shook her head defiantly.  "I promised I wouldn't _cry_.  I never promised not to be sad."  Her eyes filled with tears.

          He smiled.  "But, see, now you're crying."

          "I'm not crying," she sniffled.  "Whatever, I have allergies."

          He caressed her cheek and carelessly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

          "You promised you wouldn't cry, and what did I promise you?"

          She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek quickly.  "That we'd talk every day and that this summer would fly by."

          "That's right."

          "But you can't make promises about time," she complained.  "You don't control _time_."

          He gathered her in his arms in a tight hug.  "I can tell when you're really upset because you get whiny and argumentative," he told her.

          She sighed.  "I just hate this.  I wish I could stay here with you."

          "You would miss your family and friends too much, and you know it.  And you'd be bored.  All of which doesn't matter, because your mother would never let you."

          "I know," she said.  She tightened her arms around his neck.

          "I love you," he whispered into her ear.

          "I love you too," she said.  "And you'll visit?"

          "As much as I possibly can.  And you'll come here."

          "Are you kidding?  I can hardly wait to meet the woman who made you," she said, in reference to the fact that Chandler would be spending the summer interning at the publishing house that represented his mom, living with her in a very over priced, highly pretentious Upper East Side apartment.

          "She can't wait to meet you either."

          "What have you told her about me?" she asked coyly, leaning back in his embrace.

          "That you're Ross's sister, which was an immediate plus.  My mom pretty much loves Ross," Chandler paused to reflect this fact, "Which is actually a little weird."

          Monica rolled her eyes.  "She can join the club."

          "I also told her that you're smart and funny and beautiful."

          She nudged him playfully.  "You did not."

          "Yes I did!"

          "I find it hard to believe that you said all those words at one time to the woman who I've only heard monosyllabic grunts from your end of many phone conversations."

          He smiled.  "Okay, fine.  But I did send her your picture, and I told her how great you were."

          "You're very sweet," she said.  She kissed him, softly at first, but with growing urgency.  He welcomed her tongue in his mouth and caressed it gently with his own, eliciting a soft moan from her lips, muffled against his.  They kissed passionately for several moments, interrupted by a disgusted Ross clearing his throat.

          They pulled apart reluctantly.

          "I should wear a bell or something so you know when I'm coming.  I can only take so much of that."

          Monica stuck her tongue out at him immaturely and clung to the back of Chandler's shirt as he gave his best friend a good-bye hug. 

          "Drive safely," he said.

          "I will.  Say hi to your mom for me.  I'll talk to you soon."

          "Okay.  Hey, keep an eye on this one for me, will ya?" chandler asked, teasingly jerking his thumb behind him in Monica's direction.

          "I've been doing that long before you came around," Ross teased back before settling in the driver's seat.

          Chandler turned to face Monica slowly, preparing himself for the tears that would no doubt be falling from her dark blue eyes, but she surprised him.  Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she wasn't crying, and she took a deep breath.

          "Okay.  Goodbye," she said bravely.  She searched his face, and saw the beginnings of a tear in the corner of his right eye, which she swiftly wiped away.

          "Hey.  None of that," she reprimanded.

          "I was so busy worrying about you crying, I forgot to make sure I didn't," he whispered.  She hugged him fiercely.

          "I love you," she said.

          "I love you too.  We're gonna be fine, you know that, right?"

          "I know," she said.  "I know."

          They kissed sweetly, and he opened the door for her to climb in.

          "Bye you two," he said, waving as Ross pulled the car into drive.

          "Bye!" Ross shouted.  Monica waved, and offered him a smile, which he matched readily.  He watched them until the little blue car was out of sight and repeated his own words in his head:  "We're gonna be fine."  He scarcely believed himself, until he remembered her soft "I know," her quiet confidence, her faith in them.  And then he knew, too.

**Please leave a review!  Thank you!**


	13. Chapter 13

_A.N.__  Okay, chapter 13!  Wow, all I can say is, thank you guys so much for waiting and for reviewing, sometimes twice even, to tell me how much you wanted more of this story.  Summer is a really hard time for me to write because I'm so busy, so I'm sorry the time between updates is so long… I tried to semi make up for it with length this time.  So I hope you enjoy!  Okay, few things:  I tried something totally different with the beginning here, I just wanted to change it up and tell the story from a stranger's perspective, so this guy won't be in the story or anything.  I hope that's not confusing!  Also, for the purposes of this story, Charles Bing is gay and all, but he's not a drag queen or transvestite.  Maybe we can just pretend that he didn't start that until later or something. Lastly, there's some questionable language in here, so, you've been warned.   Sorry for the long author's note!  Have a great day!_

_Xoxo__,_

_Maddy__.___

The middle aged business man stole yet another glance at the young girl seated beside him on the train from Long Island to New York City.  She hadn't stopped fidgeting since she'd taken the empty seat next to him almost forty minutes earlier; jiggling her knees, twirling her hair, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt.  The latest distraction attempt had been a book, a tattered paperback that looked like it had been read dozens of times; To Kill A Mockingbird, he ascertained by a subtle crane of his neck.  She scratched her arm and inadvertently elbowed him, again.

            "I'm really, _really_ sorry," she apologized, adding the second "really" for the second offense.

            "It's all right," he told her.  "You seem a little nervous."

            She shook her head.  "No, not nervous.  Excited."

            "Boyfriend?" he guessed.

            She settled her surprisingly bright blue gaze on him quizzically.  "How did you know?"

            He smiled.  "Not too hard to deduce.  I'm Robert, by the way," the man said, offering his hand.

            "Monica," the girl replied, shaking his hand and appraising the level of risk she was taking by engaging a random forty year old stranger in conversation.

            "It's all right.  I'm not a psychopath, I promise."

            "That's exactly what a psychopath would say," she replied, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

            "So, summer love?" Robert asked.

            "Not exactly.  We go to school together.  He's living in the city for the summer."

            "And you're not," he finished.

            "Right."

            "I've got the opposite problem, actually."

            She looked at him quizzically.

            "I live in the city with my family, but my boss transferred me out to Long Island a few months ago.  So I only come home on weekends."

            "I'm sorry, that must be really hard."

            He shrugged.  "It'll only be for a few more months, hopefully.  I just hope I don't miss my son's baseball game," he said, checking his watch and then grinning.  "I think he'd disown me."

            They rode the rest of the way to the city in silence, Monica occasionally trying to concentrate long enough to read, Robert staring out the window pensively.  They rolled into the station ahead of schedule, around quarter of five.

            "Looks like you'll make the game, huh?" Monica asked with a grin as he helped her maneuver her duffel bag out of the train.

            "Looks like it.  You have a great weekend with that boyfriend, all right?"

            They parted ways.  Robert spotted his wife and children immediately through the crowd.  He kept one eye on Monica as she searched frantically, her movements jaunty and anxious.  When she leapt into the arms of a young man and he held her firmly, he couldn't help but be moved by her passion, by her love for this nameless boy, by the way they both had their eyes closed so tightly.  He met his wife with a passionate kiss, a kiss that when they parted caused her to ask, "What was that for?"

            Robert just smiled.  "Missed you," he said.

            Chandler had been buying a soda when Monica's train arrived, and had found her in the station moments later, looking for him.  He approached her from behind, spun her around and hugged her tightly.  Surprised at first, Monica dropped her suitcase and wrapped her arms around his neck, vowing that she would never let go.

            "I'm so sorry, I knew I shouldn't have left to get a drink.  I wanted to be here, I'm such a moron," Chandler said, mentally kicking himself.  She assured him it was okay and squeezed him tighter.

"Let me look at you," Chandler said, loosening her hands around his neck and pulling back to gaze at her.  She smiled self consciously.

            "Hi," she said.

            "You're all tan," he replied, rubbing a finger up and down her exposed arm.

            "Outside at camp all day…" she reminded him.

            "I can't believe I haven't seen you for five weeks."

            "I can't believe you still haven't kissed me yet."

            No sooner were the words out of her mouth than were her lips covered by his.  They stood in the middle of the train station, kissing passionately, as other travelers worked their way around them.  When they finally parted, Chandler tugged her hand.

            "Let's go home," he said.

            "So Monica, have you been as lovesick and miserable around your parents as my son has been around here this summer?" Nora Bing asked as she passed a bowl of salad to Chandler.

            "Mom," Chandler groaned, accepting the bowl.

            Monica smiled teasingly.  "Actually, I really haven't missed him all that much."

            Nora laughed, and Chandler snorted.

            "I have a stack of letters upstairs that says otherwise," he said.

            "And how's work going?  Chandler says you're working with kids?"

            "Yeah, at this summer camp.  It's a lot of fun, the kids are great.  The hours are kind of long but at least I'm making some money."

            "And how is that adorable brother of yours?"

            "Still adorable," Monica said dryly.

            "Okay, Mom, can we knock off the twenty questions?"

            "Oh Chandler.  You're always so embarrassed of me," Nora said.  "I have no idea why," she added, adjusting the plunging neckline of her tight turquoise dress.

            "It _is_ a mystery," he added sarcastically. 

            "Oh, my goodness, I'd better get going!  I've got an important meeting-"

            "Code for _date_," Chandler interjected to Monica.

            "With a colleague," Nora continued.

            "Code for _married editor_."

            Nora laughed cheerfully.  "All right kids, well, you enjoy the rest of dinner.  Oh, and as the perfectly June Cleaver style mother that I am, I had the guest bedroom set up for you, Monica.  June Cleaver would never have her son and his girlfriend in the same bedroom."  She paused at the doorframe.  "However, I _will_ tell you that I won't be home until very late, and I haven't checked on Chandler in the middle of the night since he was seven."

            "Okay,_ thanks_ mom!" Chandler said.

            "Just so you know!" she trilled, before letting the door slam behind them.

            Monica was giggling a little, and Chandler shot her a look of mock indignation.

            "You think this is funny?  I mean, could she have _been_ less subtle?  I wouldn't be surprised if she left a pack of Trojans on the night table!"

            Monica laughed.  "I'm sorry," she said, covering his hand with her own.  "But, I mean, that wouldn't be the _worst_ thing she could have done," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

            "No, the _worst_ thing would be balancing them on top of a copy of the Kama Sutra," he said sarcastically.  She got up and sat down on his lap.

            "Hey.  She's gone," she reminded him gently.

            "I know.  I'm sorry, she's just so…"

            "Different?" Monica supplied.

            "I was going to use a less friendly adjective, but all right."

            "Chandler, listen, nobody's parents are perfect.  My mother hardly looked at me until earlier this year, and my dad never hears a thing Ross or I say… Rachel's are getting divorced… I mean, so what, you're mom's a little eccentric.  She loves you," Monica finished. 

            "I know…"

            "And really, it _could_ be worse.  If you were at my house, you'd be sleeping with Ross instead of me," she said cheekily.

            He raised his eyebrows.  "Are you finished dinner?"

            "Done," she said quickly.

            "Let me show you to my room!" he said excitedly, dragging her from the table.

            Later, he collapsed beside her and kissed her temple affectionately.

            "Wow," she said.

            "I know."  He kissed her lips, nose, forehead.

            "I missed you so much," she said solemnly, holding his face in her hands.  He took one of her hands in his, and she lay down against his chest, his heart still thudding a little faster than normal.

            "What are all these weird strings?" he asked, playing with the several colorful string bracelets knotted around her wrist.

            She laughed.  "My eight year olds make them, they're kind of like obsessed.  These two little girls, Paige and Abby- they give me a new one like every week."

            "And you wear them?" he asked tenderly, rubbing his fingers over a bright green one.

            "They get so excited when I do, that I just never take them off," she said sheepishly. 

            "You're so great," he whispered.  "I love you."

            "I love you too," she said.

            "I'm going to be pretty depressed on Sunday, when you leave."

            She twisted in his arms.  "It's only another month until school," she reminded him.

            "I know."

            She kissed him gently, then moved her mouth to her wrist and worked one of the knots with her teeth.

            "Here," she said, taking the bracelet and tying it around his wrist.  "Friendship bracelets."

            "I kinda had my eye on that green one," he joked. 

            She elbowed him.  "That one's my favorite, forget about it," she teased back.

            "Won't Paige and Abby be mad?"

            "They'll get over it."

            "Your job sounds like _fun_.  Little kids making you presents and adoring you.  Meanwhile I have to walk around my mom's publishing house with a tower of cardboard coffee cups or refilling people's paper-clip trays."

            "Poor you," she said, rolling her eyes.  "You could be mowing lawns or cleaning pools.  At least this will look good when you apply for jobs next year."

            "Thanks for the sympathy, baby," he said sarcastically.

            "Hey, it's not all lemonade and bracelet making for me, you know.  There's mosquito bites and homesick kids and time out corners."

            "Let me get out my little violin."

            "Shut up," she said, grinning and pinning him to the bed.  "If you aren't nicer to me I just might have to punish you."

            "Oh really?"

            "Mhmmm."

            "Well, my mom will probably be home soon, so you'll have to punish me quietly."

            She rolled her eyes.  "You're the loud one."

            He laughed.  "You'll pay for that one," he said, rolling over so that he was on top of her and began kissing her.

            "Wait.  I'm thirsty," she said, pulling away.

            He looked at her pleadingly.  "You're serious?"

            She nodded.  "Please?  I'm dying."

            He sighed and grinned, got out of bed and found his boxers, and tossed her a few items of her own clothing.  "If I'm braving the kitchen and a possible run-in with Nora, so are you."

            She laughed, got semi-dressed and took his hand as he led her from his bedroom to the kitchen.  Halfway there he hugged her from behind and started to kiss her neck.

            "How fast can you drink a glass of water?" he murmered into her ear.

            "Pretty fast," she whispered, arching her neck to give him easier access.

            Suddenly, they were both squinting as bright yellow light filled the room.  They sprang apart when they saw a middle aged man seated on an armchair in the living room, looking less than happy.

            "Dad…" Chandler finally managed to say after a long pause while their eyes adjusted to the light and the initial shock wore off.  Monica gaped at the stranger she had heard so many half-stories about; "half" because there was always a point where Chandler got sad, frustrated or angry and shut her out.

            "Chandler."

            "What… what are you doing here?" he stammered.

            "It's still my house, legally, isn't it?" Charles asked defensively.  He eyed his son up and down, trying to avoid looking at his scantily clad guest.  "I suggest you go put some clothes on, then come back out here and introduce me."

            "Fuck you," Chandler said in a quiet and controlled tone that Monica had never heard before.  It scared her, and she took another step away from him and back towards his room.

            "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

            "I said, fuck you," he repeated calmly. 

            "I'm just gonna… wait in your room," Monica said awkwardly, leaving Chandler and his father alone.  They stared at each other in silence for several moments.

            "I'm still waiting for your apology," Charles said.

            "Funny, I've been waiting for one of those since I was eight years old.  Might wanna get used to waiting."

            "Chandler, I'm so sick of these little jabs… you've barely said hello and already you're back to blaming me for the breakdown of the American family."

            "No, not _the_ American family, just ours."

            "As much as I've missed this dynamic we have, I was hoping we could have a different conversation right now."

            "You and I don't have conversations."

            "Even so," Charles sneered, "I was hoping we might discuss you and your little friend, walking through the house half naked."

            Chandler laughed out loud.  "You hoped wrong."

            "I did not raise you to behave this way," Charles said, becoming increasingly agitated.

            "No, because you didn't _raise_ me at all!" Chandler yelled back.  "And Dad, thanks for the gesture, but you're about 5 years too late for the sex talk."

            "Chandler?  Who are you talking to?" Nora asked from the front hall.  Chandler slapped his forehead in frustration.

            "She didn't know you were coming?" he hissed at his father as Nora reached the living room.

            "Charles?  What the hell… why are you even _here_?"

            "Nora.  Hello.  I see you've been just as _busy_ as usual," he said, gesturing to her dress.

            "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

            "I was in the city and decided to drop in to say hello, since I knew Chandler was living here this summer.  And I'm glad I did, because now I know what goes on in this house."

            "And what would that be?" Nora asked defensively.  Chandler felt like an eight year old again, like an invisible child or a piece of furniture, something neither of them saw.

            "You can sleep with whomever you want in _your_ life, Nora, but when I come home to find my son sneaking around in a dark house with a half dressed girl-"

            "Shut up!  Shut _up_!" Chandler finally interrupted.  "Where do you get _off_?  Why were you sitting here in the dark anyway?  Were you _trying_ to catch someone, Mom or me?  And for your information, that half-dressed girl is my girlfriend, and has been for a long time, and maybe you would have known that if you were around for more than five minutes a year.  So, I don't want you," Chandler said, getting as close to his father as he could, "telling me what to do, or where to do it.  As far as I'm concerned, you can either go back to where you came from, or straight to hell." 

            With that, Chandler stalked back to his room and let the door slam behind him, the voices of his parents already arguing behind him.  Monica was fully dressed now, sitting on the corner of his bed nervously.  He barely saw her.  He picked up a shoe from the floor and hurled it as hard as he could at the wall.  Monica winced at the deadened thud, and he looked back at her.

            "I'm sorry," he muttered.  She rose and tried to hug him, but he fought her arms away.  "It's okay," he said.

            "I know," she said, and tried again, but again he fought her.  "Chandler.  Please," she begged, running her hand up and down his arm.  Tears threatened the corners of his eyes and he closed them. 

            "So that was your dad," she said quietly.  He nodded.

            "I hate him."

            Monica reached out with her other arm and touched his chest lightly.  Before he knew what he was doing, he flung her arm away from him so hard she fell back a little, and when she looked back up at him in shock, he was crying. 

            "Oh my god, Monica, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, reaching for her.  She recoiled at first, still unsure of what had just happened, but finally he was able to wrap his arms around her, to absorb her small body in his own, and he held her to him as close as he could, crying salty tears into the gap between her neck and shoulder.

            "I'm so sorry," he kept repeating.  "I'm just like him.  I'm just like him…"

            "Shhh…" Monica finally said, tears stinging her own eyes.  "It's okay…"

            "No.  No, it's not okay.  I'll never forgive myself for that."

            "It was nothing, Chandler.  Really," she said soothingly, stroking his back.

            "But I saw you… and your eyes, and you were scared, you were scared of me…" he trailed off, choking back sobs.

            "I could never be scared of you," she said.  She grabbed both sides of his face in her hands.  "Chandler, listen to me.  You are_ not_ your father."

            "But-"

            "You're not your father.  You could never be."

            He searched for the lie in her words, the glint of suspicion in her eyes, and found neither.  He finally just nodded, sniffling, and rubbed his eyes.  She lay down on his bed, and he lay down beside her and let her hold him, kissing his tears and rubbing his back until he finally fell asleep.  She listened to his erratic breathing and the screaming of his parents in the living room, and it was a long time before she closed her eyes.

_To be continued… of course._


End file.
